


Stuck on You

by insipid_rhyme



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dubious Consent, It's only unrequited love at the beginning, M/M, Possessive Behaviour, Unrequited Love, tw: rape/non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-02-21 07:23:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 18
Words: 21,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2459840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insipid_rhyme/pseuds/insipid_rhyme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles was a perfectly normal seventeen year-old boy. He was a perfectly normal hormone filled teenager, who had perfectly normal urges.</p><p>And when there was a perfectly normal solution to sedate those urges, what was wrong with going with it? Nothing- nothing was wrong with that. </p><p>So that would explain why Stiles put up with Derek Hale and his habit of always creeping in to his room when he's sleeping or doing something else ordinary that perfectly normal teenagers do, because Derek is the solution - he comes bearing sex.</p><p>---<br/>Or -- the story in which Derek is a little in love with Stiles and a lot insane, and Stiles is just the normal teenaged boy who loved sex. Add possessiveness and creeper instincts on Derek's part, and you got yourself this weird fucking thing. </p><p>Read at your own risk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First time posting  
> Be kind!

Derek knew that Stiles didn't like him-- didn't want him.  
He knew Stiles didn't like it when he climbed through his window late at night, or possibly even ever.  
Cimbing into bed with him, draping himself over him and sometimes even pulling Stiles on top of him. Stiles always huffed really loud when he did that.

But that didn't stop him. Didn't stop him from getting angry when Stiles came home late some nights smelling of other people, even when he knew Stiles wasn't his and he could do whatever he wanted, with whoever he wanted.

That didn't stop him from forcing Stiles into the shower most nights, stepping in after him while pretending not to hear Stiles' protests and taking every hit Stiles threw at him as he removed Stiles' clothes, revealing his pale skin.

That didn't stop him from washing away the other peoples scents, and replacing them with his own.

***

Stiles gave up eventually. He always did. He simply couldn't help it. 

He stopped fighting, he stopped resisting.

He just let him.

He allowed Derek to wash him and towel him dry. Even went as far as letting Derek dress him.

Stiles adamantly refused to sleep naked, even if Derek only ever allowed him to wear his underwear. He wasn't comfortable being completely naked around Derek, besides in the shower. But then again, he wasn't comfortable at those times, either. He just knew he couldn't shower with clothes on. 

And the underwear weren't even his, they were Derek's. 

It had become somewhat of a routine for Derek to come in through his window late at night, to shower him if he didn't smell right. Didn't smell enough like Derek. Stiles has learned to accept it, albeit grudgingly.

Derek slept completely naked, so he let Stiles wear the underwear he had previously been wearing himself.

Even though that was one of the things Stiles tried the hardest to avoid.  
Key word, tried. 

***

"Your window was closed."

The statement was met with silence.

Derek hugged him tighter and pulled him in closer, his chest pressed up against Stiles' back.

He nuzzled more securely into the back of Stiles' neck, breathing him in deeply.

Stiles shifted, uncomfortable in Derek's tight hold. He moved his arm down, pulling Derek's briefs back up from where they had ridden down his thighs. They were at least two sizes too big for him. 

He wondered if that was why Derek was always making him wear them.

"Why was your window closed?" 

"Maybe because it's cold?" Stiles said slowly, the answer sounding more like a question than anything. 

"Keep it open."

"Why? It's not like a locked window would stop you. Hey, maybe I should start locking it. Then maybe you'd catch a hint," Stiles grumbled, the annoyance clear in his voice.

Derek started peppering soft kisses along his neck, Stiles cringing away from the unwanted touch. He was too fucking annoyed tonight.

"I know you don't want me here," Derek murmured into his skin, continuing to kiss along his neck and then down to his throat.

"Well if you knew that, then why did you even come? You know, since it's pretty clear I don't want you here. Obviously you knew this all along. Which is why I don't quite get what the reason behind all of this is?" Stiles said, still cringing away from Derek's touch. He didn't want to admit that there was a part of him that wanted Derek there.

"Because."

"Uh, excuse me? That's all the explanation I get? Why can't you just leave me alone?!" Stiles demanded, shouting now while urgently trying to get away from Derek. He had had enough.

"Relax," Derek said simply. It infuriated Stiles.

"No. Let me go, Derek! I'm sick of this, why can't you understand that?" He pushed Derek's hands away from where they were grabbing onto his arms, trying to get him to stop struggling. "Let. Me. The fuck. Go!" He shouted, trying to regain control of the situation.

Derek pinned Stiles' arms to the bed, forcing him on his back and silencing his cries by gripping his wrists tighter, to the point where it hurt. He climbed on top of him and hissed, "You're mine, Stiles. Mine! No one else's but mine." 

Derek was looking Stiles straight in the eyes, letting go of one of his wrists to grab at his jaw when he tried to turn his head away.

Stiles closed his eyes instead, trying to hide the inevitable tears that had gathered. He felt humiliated, and disgusted with himself that there was a part of him that liked this. That liked what Derek was doing. 

"You're fuckin' crazy," Stiles whispered, like he had just realized it himself. He wasn't sure who he was calling crazy; himself or Derek.

Derek smiled, a twisted quirk of his lips. "Don't say that, pup." He slowly leaned down and pressed his lips to Stiles' tightly clenched mouth, tasting the salt from his tears that had leaked from his beautiful brown eyes.

Stiles attempted to turn his head away again, but Derek simply gripped his jaw tighter and beared down on his mouth harder. When Stiles refused to open his mouth to Derek's intruding tongue, Derek bit down on Stiles' bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth with a sickening slurp.

Stiles' body convulsed around a frustrated sob, his breath coming quick and heavy as he fought.

Derek successfully got Stiles' mouth open wide enough so he could slide his tongue inside. He licked over Stiles' teeth, the insides of his mouth, his pallet and over his tongue, then sucked on it greedily.

Stiles was sobbing freely now. The tears leaked from his tightly clenched eyes, running down his flushed face and then gathering around his nostrils and over his parted lips.

Derek reached up his other hand since Stiles had lost the strength to struggle, and gently wiped the tears away. 

He pushed up from his position pressed against Stiles, and rolled off of him to lay next to him, shushing him quietly when Stiles only cried harder. 

He moved them into the previous position they were in before, him pressed up against Stiles' back. Every part of his naked form is touching Stiles, from his face down to his feet which were entangled with Stiles'. 

He stretched out an arm to cover them with the blanket which had been thrown aside in the struggle, half hanging off the bed. 

He spent some time soothing Stiles, gently grazing his fingertips down Stiles' tear streaked face, rubbing the tears away. 

Stiles' sobs soon turned into sniffles, then into hiccups. He laid there, blinking with his swollen eyes at the wall across from him while Derek still gently petted him. 

Eventually Stiles' eyes got droopy, his eyelids too heavy to keep open after he blinked. Derek could hear the exact moment he fell asleep, his heart slowing slightly into rhythmic beats, his breath huffing out between his parted lips. 

Derek took a minute to truly look at the boy, to examine his sleeping form. 

Very gently he ran his index finger down his nose, which he adored so much, his adorable nostrils that always looked a little flared. The way his nose turned up at the end, Derek could stare at it for hours.

He scanned his entire face, making little side notes on how he could actually write an entire story on most of the features on display there because he would remember them so clearly.

"Goodnight, pup," Derek quietly whispered as he wrapped his arms around the boy's sleeping form.

He fell asleep in a trance, hypnotized as he listened to the quiet inhale and exhales coming from his beautiful boy. Feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath.

 

Derek knew that Stiles doesn't like him-- doesn't want him.

He also knew that he wasn't ever going to leave the boy alone, not if he could help it.

He was stuck on the boy. He was stuck on Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading :)  
> please comment your thoughts!  
> I'd love to know what you think


	2. Chapter 2

Derek knew Stiles doesn't love him. 

He was aware that when they would kiss in the mornings after Stiles' dad had left for work, that Stiles was probably thinking about someone else. Lydia, maybe.

He knew that when Stiles was sucking his cock and trying not to choke, he's thinking of another guy. Probably Danny. 

Derek was aware of all this shit, okay? But he didn't let it bother him. 

Because Stiles isn't going to tell anybody. Because as much as he might hate admitting it, Stiles can't deny that he liked it when Derek got all creepy possessive and bathed him. Liked it when he went to bed with Derek wrapped around him, holding him close and sharing his warmth. Because everyone got lonely at one point in their life- and since Stiles could do far worse than Derek, you didn't hear him complaining. Much. 

Stiles wondered if that would maybe change. If he would start wanting Derek as much as Derek wanted him, possibly going as far as to say he was in love with Derek.

Stiles sighed as he laid awake in bed. Derek was asleep with his head on Stiles' chest, an arm wrapped tightly around his waist. Stiles' own arm was resting on Derek's back, shifting with the movements of Derek's breathing. 

His dad was taking an extra shift tonight, so he wouldn't be home until late in the evening.

He kept telling himself that the reason why he's not doing anything, like telling anybody about Derek or putting his fucking foot down himself, was because he was one of those people that would just ignore a problem until the problem eventually went away. You know what they say- ignorance is bliss, and all that. 

He knew that was bullshit. Maybe he had a case of Stockholm Syndrome. Or maybe he was just being a dramatic fucking teenager. He rolled his eyes at himself.

No, he knew that the real reason was because he didn't hate Derek as much as he insisted he did and he didn't fucking want Derek to leave. Even if he didn't always enjoy Derek manhandling him, but then again sometimes he did. He can't deny that he liked it. A lot. He was a teenager, he liked breast feeding mothers. Literally anything could get him going.

***

Stiles was in the middle of giving Derek a blow job. His lips were spread wide on the girth of Derek, bobbing his head and slowly attempting to take more of his length in, and failing miserably. But apparently Derek liked the feeling of him gagging around his cock, so it was all good. He had drool and pre-come running down his chin and coating Derek's cock. He tried licking at the underside of Derek's cock while hollowing his cheeks, increasing the suction as he did so. 

Derek was moving his hips up in small, gentle thrusts. The head of his dick was hitting the back of Stiles' throat, making him choke uncontrollably. He hoped he wouldn't end up puking all over Derek, as funny as that might be. 

Derek's thrusts were becoming more erratic, more forceful, and he placed a hand on the back of Stiles' head and pushed him all the way down as he thrusted up. 

Stiles had tears running down his face, trying hard not to yank his head back for air like he so desperately wanted to. Derek was fucking his face without hesitation, his panting and moaning sounding like a wild animal. He pushed Stiles down until he reached the base of his cock and held him there, his nose nestled in Derek's wiry pubes and inhaling his musky smell. 

Derek twitched then stilled, holding Stiles' head in place as he came down his throat, some of it squirting onto his tongue. He thrusted up a few more times, riding out his orgasm as Stiles struggled to swallow the load Derek gave him. 

As soon as Derek let go of his head, Stiles surged up and off his cock, gasping air into his lungs. He looked wrecked as he panted for breath while rubbing his aching jaw, righting himself when he almost fell off the bed.

"Thank you, pup," Derek said, opening his eyes to look at him.

Stiles scoffed. "How 'bout you let me breathe next time?" he rasped, his voice wrecked from the abuse Derek had put it through. 

The older man only smiled then reached out for Stiles, slowly pulling him down to lie on his chest, and ran his fingers through his hair. He picked up Stiles' stranded shirt from off the bed next to them, and wipes Stiles' face off with it.

"Are you alright?" Derek asked, moving Stiles' hair from where it was flat against his sweaty forehead.

"Mm, I'm fine," Stiles mumbled sleepily, his eyes closing. 

Derek leaned down and caught Stiles' lips with his own, roughly biting his bottom lip then licking into his mouth. He tasted himself there and growled with satisfaction. 

"Gross, don't. I have cock breath," Stiles protested weakly, leaning back away from him. Derek laughed and kissed his forehead instead. Stiles grunted. "Let me sleep." He shifted a little so he wasn't completely on top of Derek, instead snuggling into his side.

"Okay. Goodnight, pup."

"It's daytime, you dick."

Derek only huffed and settled down next to him, getting comfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comment your thoughts and leave a kudos if you're feeling generous.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello  
> goodbye  
> hope you enjoy

"Stiles? Come on, get up." 

Stiles grunted in his half asleep state, stubbornly keeping his eyes closed and trying to go back to sleep. 

"Pup? Come on, I have to leave soon. Let's go shower." Derek lifted the blanket from over Stiles' head when he still didn't move, then placed one arm under his legs and his other around his back, heaving him up from the bed effortlessly. "The fuck- I was sleeping!" Stiles cried, struggling half heartedly in Derek's arms. 

"Not anymore, you're not. Now you're showering," Derek replied easily. 

"Ugh, I hate you," Stiles grumbled, but he wrapped his arms around Derek's neck anyway, giving up. He hardly ever won in a fight with Derek. The dude was stubborn as hell. "No you don't. Don't ever say that, pup." Derek walked through the bathroom door, having to go sideways to fit them through the doorway. He gently lowered Stiles onto the tiled floor and walked over to the shower, turning the water on and setting it at the temperature he wanted. He moved closer to Stiles, sticking his thumbs underneath the waistband of his boxers and quickly pulling them down.

Stiles blushed, embarrassed, as he was revealed to Derek. He should be used to it by now, but he really, really wasn't. He just couldn't help feeling self conscious when he had Derek to compete with. The guy was 90% muscle. 

As soon as the boxers were down, Stiles placed his hands over his crotch to cover himself, trying to regain some semblance of confidence. 

"No, Stiles. You don't have to cover yourself around me. Let me see you," Derek ordered gently, taking hold of Stiles' hands and intertwining their fingers, pulling them away from his crotch. 

Stiles huffed, trying to act indifferent. "Yeah, whatever. Just hurry up. I'm tired and I just want to sleep." Stiles was aware he sounded like a hormonal teenager. He was also aware that he didn't give a fuck. 

Since Derek was already naked, he stepped into the shower without anymore hesitation and pulled Stiles in behind him. Derek stood under the water to wet his hair, then tugged Stiles in front of him so his back was against his chest. He gently tipped Stiles' head back, making sure the water was flowing down his face and wetting his hair.

"I can do this myself, Derek," Stiles said groggily, rubbing water from his eyes. It was helping to wake him up, but all he wanted to do was sleep. 

"We've been through this more than enough times, Stiles," Derek said impatiently. And he had a point there. But Stiles still sighed, getting annoyed because he was so tired. 

"Stop complaining, pup." Derek reached for the shampoo that was sat on the small porcelain bench in the corner of the shower. He poured a small amount into his palm and set the bottle back down then rubbed his hands together. He gently massaged the shampoo into Stiles' hair, then did his quickly, too. "Put your head back, pup."

Stiles did as he was told, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. Derek rinsed the shampoo out, careful not to let any drip down into his eyes. The movements of Derek's fingers in his hair was making him even more drowsy. Derek quickly rinsed his hair after he'd finished with Stiles'. 

"I'm hardly getting any water over here, you're hogging it all and I'm freezing," Stiles complained, flicking his wet hair out of his eyes and yawning. 

"Then come here." Derek turned Stiles around so that they were facing each other and took a small step backward, pulling Stiles' chest flush against his own and letting the warm water cascade over his tired body. 

"Oh, uhm..." Stiles trailed off, feeling uncomfortable but enjoying the close proximity as well as the warm water relaxing his stiff muscles. Derek reached over to get the conditioner next, repeating his previous actions with the shampoo. He left the conditioner in Stiles' hair then grabbed for the wash cloth and shower gel.

He lathered the wash cloth with gel, then slowly began washing Stiles' broad but slender shoulders. He went over Stiles' upper body with the cloth, lathering him in the strawberry scented soap until soap suds were all over Stiles' wet skin.

"You forgot to wash behind my ears," Stiles said sarcastically after a stretch of silence, really struggling to keep himself awake by this point. 

Derek gave him a warning glance, but nonetheless he brought his soap covered fingers up behind Stiles' ears and rubbing at the spot thoroughly.

"Happy?" he asked rhetorically. 

"Just peachy," Stiles replied enthusiastically. 

Derek narrowed his eyes at him, then leaned down a little and began washing his thighs. He scrubbed the front of them gently, then the back of them, then he started to wash the inside of them, gently scrubbing the pale skin in relaxing circles. 

"Okay that's enough, Derek," Stiles said shakily, his face flushed red as he avoided Derek's eyes. 

Derek moved down his shins, then lifts Stiles' leg and starts to wash his foot. He slides a finger between each toe, Stiles trying to yank his foot away when it tickled. Derek grabs his ankle firmly, then moves his hand underneath his foot, rubbing the sole of it gently. He repeats his actions on Stiles' other foot, taking his time.

"It's like you think I have a disease or something," Stiles said, a bit weirded out.

"It's very important to wash your feet," Derek replied simply, still massaging his foot.

"You're weird," Stiles stated, looking at him with something like wonder in his eyes.

"Thank you," Derek said, standing back up. "But I'm not done with you."

Stiles sighed and rolled his eyes. "You know you haven't even washed yourself," he pointed out, raising an eyebrow. 

"I'll live," Derek said simply, shrugging. He placed the wash cloth down, then grabbed the lavender scented bar of soap. So many different chemicals. He got his hands covered with it, foamed up in his palms and fingers.

He grabbed hold of Stiles' flaccid penis, slowly stroking it and lathering it in the foamy substance. Stiles' fidgeted, not completely uncomfortable but a tad dubious. He really wasn't used to anyone but himself touching his cock. He placed his hands on Derek's shoulders to make sure he wouldn't fall over. Derek moved his hand further back and slid his fingers over Stiles' balls. He cupped then gently in his hand, fondling the skin with his large fingers.

"Derek, we get it I'm clean," Stiles said, trying to move backwards but it was proved difficult when someone had a hold of your genitals. Derek gripped them tighter, and Stiles yelped. "No you're not. Not yet." Derek moved his hand away from Stiles' crotch and Stiles heaved a sigh of relief, but then Derek spun his arms around Stiles' waist and pulled him impossibly closer.

The fingers of his left hand pressed just above Stiles' ass, then they moved down and traced along Stiles' crack. His right hand held Stiles' cheek open.  
"Derek! I can do this part!" Stiles squeals, trying to escape Derek's strong hold. All it achieved was Stiles rubbing his semi-hard cock against Derek's fully hardened one. Stiles yelped again at the pleasurable feeling, and at discovering Derek's hardness. This hadn't happened in the shower before.

Derek moved his finger over Stiles' hole, circling his entrance with his fingertip. He cleaned it thoroughly with the soap suds on his fingers, and Stiles shoved himself forward, trying to get away from the feeling. He only created more friction when his cock brushed Derek's again. 

He flinched as his cock hardened all the way, all his blood rushing south. He instinctively moved backwards this time, away from the rubbing friction of his and Derek's erections, but ends up shoving Derek's finger up his ass right up to the first knuckle, his ass clenching around the burning feeling. 

Stiles squeaked then whimpered. "You did that on purpose!" he exclaimed, almost screaming.

"No I didn't," Derek laughed, slowly wriggling his finger around inside of Stiles then pulling the digit out of Stiles' tensed hole when he squeaked again, earning him a slap to the shoulder.

"You still have conditioner in your hair, Stiles. And soap all over you," Derek said calmly. Stiles stomped his foot a little bit and shoved Derek, not even getting him to move an inch. 

Derek, sensing Stiles' distress, made quick work of rinsing himself off then left the shower so Stiles could finish his shower in peace. 

Derek couldn't help but notice that Stiles' cock hadn't softened, looking as if it had only grown harder. He chuckled quietly in amusement as he dried himself off, walking back to Stiles' bedroom with his towel wrapped loosely around his waist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading. Comment your thoughts and constructive criticism :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I spent all morning writing this while drinking coffee after coffee. I fucking pulled an all nighter and it was fucking great but now I feel like shit so I'm fucking off to bed. Sorry if it's bad.  
> 

Stiles and Derek were both up in Stiles' room, watching a movie on Stiles' laptop. It was on dusk, the sun slowly settling for the night. Stiles' dad had left for work over an hour ago, barging into Stiles' room to tell him that he had been called in, Derek only just making it behind the door in time.

The movie has just finished and the end credits were rolling.

"So, what did you think? Better than frozen?" Stiles asked Derek, closing his laptop and leaning off the side of the bed to deposit it onto the floor.

"Yeah? I mean... yes. Um, I liked it better-- than frozen. Too much singing..." Derek mumbled, distracted as he stared at Stiles' brief covered ass as he leaned off the side of the bed to put his laptop on charge.

"Were you just checking out my ass?" Stiles asked him when he was slumped back against the headboard. "Because I could totally feel your eyes burning holes through my butt. Seriously, dude. You're so obvious."

Derek sighed, rolling his eyes. "Yes, Stiles. I was checking out your magnificent ass," he replied, throwing his hands in the air on 'magnificent'.

"Thought so," Stiles said cheekily, winking at him. Derek wondered where this new found confidence came from. He thought he liked it.

Derek smirked at him, then slowly leaned forward and kissed him, lowering him to lay on the bed. Stiles kissed him back for a few moments, then pushed Derek away. "Nope, you always get to be in charge," he said, sitting up and pushing Derek back so he fell back onto his butt, facing the head of the bed. "It's my turn."

Derek raised his eyebrows, but doesn't object. "Um-- where do you want me?" he asked awkwardly.

"Lay down on the bed like a normal person, the right way," he told Derek, getting up off the bed to stand beside it and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Um... alright then." Derek quickly moved where Stiles wanted him, his head resting on the pillow.

"We don't want pillows," Stiles stated secretively as he roughly tugged the pillows out from underneath Derek's head. "Now, the plan here is for you to just lay still for a minute while I get comfortable," Stiles said with a seductive wink.

"What the hell does that mean?" Derek asked, confused. That didn't sound like it was very pleasurable.

"Oh... you'll learn soon enough." Stiles walked closer to the bed, slowly ridding himself of his underwear with only a moment of hesitation. "Okay, I'm ready," he said with a smile.

"Wait, don't we need lube or something?" Derek asked, even more confused.

Stiles laughed. "Oh, Derek. Not unless you want to eat it. Otherwise it's completely pointless." When Derek doesn't say anything, only stared at Stiles with his eyebrows furrowed, Stiles hopped up onto the bed and settles on Derek's stomach, his naked skin warm and soft to the touch.

"Are you ready, Derek?" Stiles asks, pinching one of Derek's nipples.

"I can't be ready unless I know what I'm supposed to be ready for," Derek said, trying not to sound like he was sulking.

"Oh, one more thing. You're not gonna move your arms. Unless I say so. And you're going to listen to me like a good dog, aren't you?" Stiles said teasingly.

Derek frowned. "Don't call me a dog again. Or I'll throw you down and fuck you like one."

"Oh no, Derek's angry," Stiles sing-songs, leaning forward to ruffle Derek's hair and pinch his cheeks. "Alright, I'm sick of waiting. Remember my instructions! I'm just gonna get myself comfortable now."

Derek watched as Stiles rose up off his stomach, then to his surprise awkwardly turn himself around so he's facing Derek's feet. He backs up on his knees until they're bracketing Derek's shoulders, then he says, "Do you know what's going on now?" he twists his head around to looks at Derek, winking. "I'm gonna sit on your face!"

Before Derek could even say anything, Stiles dropped his weight onto Derek's face, steadying himself with his hands on Derek's chest. He wriggled his ass around a bit, trying to get comfortable. It was a lot more comfortable than it looked, and he smiled as he settled down. "You okay under there, Derek? I'll let you up to breathe every now and then, don't worry. But now, you're going to get to work!" he said excitedly, momentarily leaning backwards so his ass completely covered Derek's face. Derek couldn't get any air, but he wasn't particularly worried about it since he knew Stiles would let him up soon. Almost on queue, Stiles lifted himself up the tiniest bit, allowing Derek to breathe. Derek breathed in, immediately missing the feeling of Stiles' ass on his face.

"You are okay with this, right?" Stiles asks him, turning to look at him.

"Yeah... yes. I'm completely okay with it," Derek says, gazing up at Stiles' ass, his hole close enough to lick.

"Awesome," Stiles says, then lowers himself back onto Derek's face, maybe a bit rougher. "You're lucky I don't need to fart," Stiles chuckled, the sound coming out evil. He holds open his ass cheeks, wriggling about on Derek's face. "Okay, wolf man. Get to work!"

Derek immediately licked up Stiles' crack to find his entrance. When he did, he began sloppily licking over it with the flat of his tongue. He gently nibbled the tight ring of muscle, feeling the muscle clench down a little. Stiles moaned above him, slowly rocking his hips back and forth onto Derek's face, wanting more.

"Uh, this feels good," Stiles moaned, spreading his cheeks further apart, desperate for more. Derek gives him more, pushing his tongue through the tight opening, trying to lap at his inner walls, practically making out with it. "Ughh, I'm going to come too soon," Stiles grunted, riding Derek's face. Derek could hear Stiles jerking off. He continued lapping at his hole in slow, strong stripes. 

Stiles tensed, twitching then he came all over Derek's chest and his own hand. He stayed seated for a few moments, then heaved himself off of Derek's face, mumbling something along the lines of 'only lasted two fucking minutes'. Derek breathed in a huge breath, licking his lips. "I liked that," he admitted breathlessly.

"Yeah I can tell," Stiles said from his position next to Derek. "Your cock looks painful it's so hard."

"Are you going to help me out or just stare at it?" Derek asks, grabbing Stiles' hand and bringing it down to rest on his cock.

"Think I'm just gonna stare at it," Stiles said, taking his hand back and fake yawning. "I'm too tired. I did just have an orgasm," he winked. "I'm all worn out."

"Yeah because I let you sit on my face and suffocate me while I ate your ass," Derek stated, impatient and wanting an orgasm.

"Hush, pup, stop complaining," Stiles said, mocking him. "I'm going to shower now." He moved to get up off the bed. "And you're not joining me!" he sang.

Derek sighed, and began tugging on his painfully hard cock.


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles still doesn't love Derek. He doesn't even understand why Derek seems to be so in love with him, of all people. Seriously, he could have anyone he wanted. Why was he so stuck on Stiles? 

But he seriously could not deny that he was attracted to him. His intimidating and dangerous demeanor, with the way he holds himself, all brooding like-- all that shit just drew Stiles in like a month to a flame.

And the way he would look at Stiles. Sometimes Stiles has had to look over his shoulder just to be sure that the heated gaze was actually intended for him. It always was. He felt so special, so wanted and so fucking good. Derek made him feel good.

He couldn't say that he hated Derek. He can't just say that he hated how Derek will go to any lengths to see him. Climbing through his bedroom window, for example. And he can't say he hated it whenever Derek ordered him around. Sure, sometimes it was highly fucking irritating, but more often that not it was just really fucking hot.

He couldn't say he hated any aspect about it, because then he would be lying.

From an outsiders eye, this bizarre relationship-- if you will-- could look forced. And sure, Derek does do some things to Stiles against his will. But not all the time, and he always apologizes, not always in words. 

Stiles enjoyed a lot of it. Could even be initiating it, at times. A lot of times, to be completely honest.

And Stiles didn't want Derek to leave. He actually wants him to stay, sort of. But sure, if Derek did leave it wouldn't really phase him. He'd get over it quick, he's positive. 

But Stiles still made it clear when he kisses Derek-- when he touches him, embraces him, fucking anything-- that this is simply them fooling around, at least on his part anyway. He made it clear that he doesn't have feelings for him.

And even though Derek knew all of this, knew that Stiles only kept him around simply because of his offering of sexual intentions, he acted like they were together most of the time. Stiles has long given up trying to stop it. It isn't harming anybody. Besides, they're not actually dating. 

**

Since Stiles is almost always the last one to arrive to pack meetings, he never really gets a seat. 

Sure, he can always sit on the floor. The hideously covered in ash and termite ridden wooden floor of the Hale Manor.

He's so not sitting on the fucking floor.

"Stiles, you made it!" Scott greets him when he walked through the front door of the burnt out Hale house, his boyish face taken over completely by his goofy puppy resembling grin. 

"Oh yeah, sorry I'm late, buddy," Stiles said, looking around the half demolished living room. Scott shot him another grin. "Someone get up and let Stiles sit down," he ordered like the good friend he is. 

"How 'bout you get up, McCall," Jackson spat, glaring at Scott. Stiles is about to say something about how he is fully capable of just standing, when strong arms wrap around his waist, pulling him down to sit on the owner of the arms' lap.

"He can sit here," Derek's gruff voice says in his ear. 

The pack doesn't look shocked by this, they don't even bat an eyelash. Except Scott. He never really got used to seeing Derek and Stiles so touchy-feely with each other, when he always thought they hated one another. 

"Oh, lovely of you to include my opinion on the matter, Derek. A for effort, seriously, dude," Stiles says, nevertheless getting himself comfortable on Derek's lap, wriggling about trying to find a suitable position. 

"You're welcome," Derek grunted, applying pressure to Stiles' thighs, effectively stopping his fidgeting. 

"Uhh..." Scott's staring at them, mouth hanging open, so Stiles leaned over toward him and closed it. 

"Can we get this show on the road? I don't appreciate having to leave the safe haven that is my bedroom. Where I'd much rather be right now," Stiles says, rolling his eyes, still fidgeting in Derek's lap. No one says anything, but Scott is still staring at them.

"What?" Stiles says, annoyed and impatient at this point. "I'm sitting in Derek's lap, big deal. It's not like I'm sitting on his cock." Scott chokes on his own spit, but finally looks away as Erica laughs. Derek tightens his hold around his waist, growling quietly in contentment. 

"So? The reason I'm here? Care to elaborate, anybody?" Stiles asks, looking around at everyone then craning his neck to look back at Derek. 

Boyd is the one who elaborates, since Derek is too busy nuzzling into Stiles' neck. "We're here because of recent evidence of other supernatural creatures around the perimeter. We don't think they are dangerous, or want to cause any harm, but we're taking precautions," Boyd boredly stated, not bothering to even look at him.

"Oh... So nothing serious then," Stiles said. "So-- when can I go home, exactly? Because you guys don't even need me here," he says with a put upon sigh, tilting his head to the side and feigning impatience. 

"Soon," Derek says, sniffing his neck now. "I'll go with you." 

"Um, no you won't," Stiles says, furrowing his eyebrows. "I have stuff to do." 

"I won't distract you," he says. Erica snorts and says something that sounds like 'sure you won't'.

"Ugh, whatever. But can we go now? I need to pee," Stiles asks him, fidgeting on Derek's lap again.

Derek looks at the pack as if asking permission. Almost in sync, the pack all nod their heads and Erica winks. 

"Come on, pup. We'll leave then." Derek removes his arms from around Stiles' waist. 

"Yes, finally," Stiles says while getting up, even though he'd been there no longer than ten minutes. "I knew I shouldn't of had that second redbull. My bladder is gonna' freakin burst, dude, I swear." 

"Uh... yeah. See you later," Derek says to the pack, ushering the fidgeting Stiles out the front door.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is leaning more towards the non-consensual area. Just a warning in advance
> 
> Hope you all enjoy

"I'm gonna piss myself!" Stiles exclaimed, messily parking the jeep outside of his house and getting out, not even bothering to lock it. "Fuck those fuckin' speed bumps, fuck!"

He ran up the drive way, noting the absence of his fathers cruiser. He left for work then. He fishes his house key out from his front pocket when he reaches the front door, hurriedly unlocking it. He hastily shoves the door open, hearing it slam against the drywall. He sprints up the stairs, only tripping twice, shouting in relieved victory when he reached the bathroom. He kicked the door closed, fished his dick out through the zip on his jeans, and relieved himself, sighing with pleasure. 

Meanwhile, Derek climbed the stairs after closing and locking the front door. He heads to Stiles' room, and sits down on his computer chair. 

"Oh my fuck I thought for sure I was gonna piss myself," Stiles said as he shut his bedroom door. He walked over to his bed and just collapsed on top of it. "I am always using the bathroom before going anywhere from now on! I swear on it!" he said, his voice muffled by the comforter. 

Derek got up from the chair and walked toward the bed where Stiles had rearranged himself onto his back. He placed a knee on the bed on one side of Stiles, his other knee following suit on the opposite side. He sat down and straddled Stiles' hips, holding most of his weight up so as not to crush Stiles underneath him.

"Hey there, big guy," Stiles said, folding his arms up under his head in a relaxed manner. "What's up?" 

Derek shifted above him, looking him over. Stiles' hair is in complete disarray, sticking up in odd directions, defying the rules of gravity. His pupils are dilated, his eyes hazy and unfocused. "How much energy drink have you had today?" he asked, reaching out to run his fingers through Stiles' messy hair. 

"Oh, not much. I had two coffees when I woke up. Then I had a redbull a while later. Then Scott texted me about the pack meeting and I drank another one on the way over," he explained, almost constantly fidgeting. 

"Stiles, you can't even stay still," he stated, pulling his hand back.

"Well I do have ADHD. Now are you going to kiss me or do I have to do it myself?" Stiles asks, sounding slightly annoyed but mostly playful. 

Derek dropped the subject in favour of leaning down, his chest pressed up against Stiles'. He pressed his mouth against Stiles' in a slow and passionate kiss, melting against him. Stiles immediately sped the kiss up and pushed his tongue into Derek's mouth, happily sucking on his tongue. Stiles' mouth tastes faintly of redbull. 

Derek growled angrily, biting Stiles' tongue, hard. Stiles yelped in pain, pulling away from Derek and putting a hand over his mouth, looking shocked and hurt. "Ow.."

"When I kiss you, we do it the way I like," Derek growled at him, shoving at his shoulders so he falls flat on his back. He leaned down again and kissed Stiles', slow and with tongue. He brought up a hand to cup Stiles' jaw, sloppily rubbing their tongues together. Stiles yelped quietly, trying to push Derek away. Derek grabbed his hands tightly, pinning them to the bed. "What? What's wrong?" he asked him impatiently. 

"My-- My tongue hurts," he said hesitantly, shrinking away from Derek's angry voice. 

Derek leaned down and kissed him-- sort of. He pushed his tongue through their open lips, and licked over the wounded flesh of Stiles' tongue. The stinging ache that had been there was now receding. 

"There, you're all healed now, pup," Derek said, the anger having left his voice. He brought his hand up to Stiles' face, gently running his fingers down his cheek, then thumbed at his bottom lip. "I'm sorry." 

Stiles just shrugged and stayed quiet, not able to keep up with Derek's constant mood swings. Derek smiled in approval, completely oblivious to Stiles' spoiled mood. "You're such a good boy," he purred, his hands now trailing down Stiles' torso. He placed his hands underneath his shirt and pushed it up, letting it ball up under his armpits. Derek leaned his head down and pushed his shirt more to the side, then shoved his face into Stiles' exposed armpit. He breathed in the tangy scent of his sweat, then stuck out his tongue and dragged it over the hair there. He lapped at it tentatively, his eyes closing in pleasure.

"Umm..." Stiles trailed off as Derek continued to lap at the sweaty hair under his arm, grossed out. "Derek, quit it. That's disgusting," he said. He tried to push Derek's head away, to no extent. He tried to move away next, move backwards. 

Derek growled at him, but moved away from his armpit. He leaned down and tried to kiss Stiles, but Stiles moved his head out of the way at the last second. "Dude, that's freakin' gross! You were literally just eating my armpit, and if you hadn't noticed it's hot and I've been sweating, and you try and kiss me?!" Stiles exclaimed loudly, head still positioned to the side.

Derek grabbed his jaw and turned his head toward him, then leaned down and licked over Stiles' cheek, coating it in his saliva. Stiles flinched, but didn't try and move away since he knew it was completely pointless. Derek licked up Stiles' temple, over his hairline, then licked over Stiles' closed eyelid, leaving his eyelashes tangled with his spit. 

"What are you fucking doing?" Stiles asked, looking up at him with one eye closed, the one that Derek had just licked. 

"I'm covering you in my scent," he said simply. He leaned down again and click d over Stiles' closed mouth, gently lapping at it for a few moments, then lifted his head back up. He brought one arm down and rested it beside Stiles' head on the bed, holding himself up. He looked down at Stiles, then gripped his jaw tighter. He gathered spit in his mouth, waiting until his mouth was almost full with it.

"Wh- what are you doing?" Stiles asked, looking up at him with wide vulnerable eyes, both open now. He had a hand wrapped around Derek's that was gripping his jaw, trying to loosen the hold with weak attempts. 

Derek didn't answer, only opened his mouth the tiniest bit and slowly let his saliva trickle out of his mouth, it slowly making it's way closer to Stiles' face. Stiles starts struggling harder, looking in dreaded horror as the stream of saliva got closer. "Derek! Stop! Let me go!" he shouted, panicked. 

The line of saliva makes contact with Stiles' open mouth, and Stiles snapped it shut. He whined in disgust as it dribbled along his lips, to the corner of his mouth. It makes it way down Stiles' cheek, then ran along the line of his jaw. He's clenched his eyes shut, his lips pursed in a thin line.

By the time the spit stopped dribbling from Derek's mouth, Stiles' lower face is almost completely covered in it.

Derek growled in satisfaction, running his fingers along Stiles' cheek, smearing the saliva more. "Hmm... you smell so much of me now, pup." 

"I want... I need a shower. Please," Stiles whispered, his eyes still shut. 

"Okay, come on then," Derek carefully picked Stiles up and carried him to the bathroom.

**

In the shower Derek had Stiles kneel on the tiled floor. He gently praised him, telling him how beautiful and obedient he was. Then he pissed on Stiles, covering him in his scent even more, watching his urine cascade down his body. 

After the shower, Derek gently dried Stiles with the towel he had just dried himself with. He slowly ushered him out the door, into his bedroom and into his bed. He spooned Stiles, him always being the big spoon. 

He kissed Stiles. Lazily moving his tongue around inside Stiles' mouth, sighing when Stiles pulled away. 

They fell asleep like that, spooned together, Derek softly breathing into Stiles' neck.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put in a little information other than Stiles and Derek this chapter
> 
> Enjoy

Derek woke up first. 

He lifted his arms up over his head and arched his back, groaning as he stretched. He yawned as he adjusted Stiles' head on his chest, moving it to rest over his pecs. Stiles' breath came out in huffs, right over Derek's nipple, causing the pink nub to tighten under the attention.

Derek ran his fingers through Stiles' hair, admiring how beautiful he was when he was sleeping. 

Derek was pretty used to this now, waking up with Stiles. He practically lived in the Stilinski household, had grown used to the sounds the house created, the gusts of wind that flew through the cracks all over the house. He listened, every morning, how the sheriff got ready for work in the exact same routine each morning; he got up, relived himself, brushed his teeth, had two slices of toasted bread with the low fat butter Stiles' insisted he eat with a steaming mug of black coffee. Then he showered, dressed in his uniform and he was on his way. 

And there were also the mornings when the sheriff came home from the station after having to work a double shift, exhausted and fighting sleep. He sometimes had a cup of coffee if he wasn't too tired. But most of the time, the sheriff sleepily made his way to his bedroom, collapsed onto his bed and fell asleep instantly with his uniform and badge still on.

One time the sheriff was so exhausted from a double shift that when he opened the door to Stiles' bedroom and sleepily told Stiles not to forget his history project for school like the last two times, he apparently forgot to notice that Derek Hale was snuggled up under the bed comforter, snoring quietly in his sleep. He had walked out immediately after, not waiting for a response, leaving Stiles with his mouth wide open. 

Derek was pulled from his thoughts as Stiles yawned, then looked up at Derek groggily without moving his head. He sighed sleepily, rearranging himself slightly and throwing an arm around Derek's waist under the covers. 

"Morning," Derek quietly broke the silence, continuing to stroke his fingers through Stiles' hair when he noticed his hand had gone still. 

Stiles grunted, then shifted his head a bit to the left and sucked Derek's nipple into his mouth, his lips closed tightly around the skin as his tongue flicked the nub a few times. Stiles sighed into the action, letting his eyes fall shut. 

Derek brought his thumb to rest on Stiles' pouting bottom lip, watching as Stiles sucked on his nipple like it was a pacifier. He held Stiles' head there, relaxing into the mattress. He resumed the action with his fingers, soothingly rubbing circles into Stiles' scalp.

Stiles soon grew still, his mouth closed around Derek's nipple but no longer sucking. Derek frowned, and jostled Stiles' head. Stiles' eyes open in surprise, as if he forgot that he was there completely. He went to lift himself off of Derek, but Derek held him there. 

"I need to pee," Stiles said, his mouth mashed up against Derek's pec and muffling his words.

Derek frowned harder, and applied more pressure to the back of Stiles' head. Stiles also frowned, then blinked up at Derek. "I need to pee," he repeated, his voice muffled against Derek's skin. He reached behind himself to lift the comforter off of him. 

"You can go to the bathroom later," Derek said, impatience evident in his voice. He lifted Stiles' head up, then placed his hands under Stiles' armpits and heaved him almost completely onto his chest. Stiles' head was now resting on the opposite side of his chest. 

He grabbed Stiles' face with both hands, then positioned his mouth over his untouched nipple. Stiles looked up at him through his lashes, then huffed. He latched onto his nipple and sucked on it like his life depended on it. A little suckling sound could be heard coming from him.

Derek allowed himself to relax again, let himself sink into the bed. He sighed in contentment and shut his eyes. His nipples were sensitive, and he loved to give them attention. The attention his nipple was getting went straight to his dick. 

Stiles sighed in what Derek thought was boredom, his eyes fixated on something behind Derek that Derek couldn't see. Derek's eyes were half lidded, so he opened them wide and looked down at Stiles. Stiles looked right back at him, still sucking on his sensitive nipple. 

"Other nipple now," Derek commanded. 

Stiles lifted his head, but caught the nub of Derek's nipple between his teeth and tugged on it painfully. Derek gasped in pleasure, the hand that he had rested on the back of Stiles' head sprouted claws, and Stiles yelped. He quickly let go of the nipple in favour of ducking his head away from Derek's clawed hand. 

"Dude! Watch where you point those things, fuck." Stiles had his cheek resting on Derek's pectoral, his eyes pinned to Derek's hand. 

Derek slowly breathed in through his nose, then watched as his claws sheathed themselves away. 

"There. Now, my other nipple," Derek ordered to Stiles, authority in his voice. 

"Dude, come on, I need to pee-"

Stiles was cut off abruptly as Derek shoved his face against his pectoral more firmly, rearranging his head so his mouth was once again pushed up over Derek's nipple. "Mmhh!" Stiles' protests were muffled against Derek's skin.

Derek then proceeded to massage Stiles' scalp, effectively calming him down. Stiles rolled his eyes before he once again attached his mouth to Derek's nipple, sucking it with false enthusiasm. 

Derek ran his hands over Stiles' face, then over his lips. He touched his adorable ski-jump nose that he adored so much. "You're a good boy, baby," Derek purred to Stiles, running his knuckles down Stiles' cheek. "Such a good boy, suckling on me. I bet you wish I could produce milk, then you'd never leave my tit alone. You wouldn't even have to get up for a drink, because I'd be here waiting for you to latch on to me, drinking me dry." 

Stiles had stopped sucking and was just staring at Derek with slightly narrowed eyes. "You are so fucking weird, I swear to god. Seriously, you get off on me sucking your nipple? And you also have a thing for my feet? And let's not forget how you fucking pissed on me last night after you-" 

Derek grabbed Stiles' jaw in a firm grip, his fingers making indents in Stiles' skin and shutting him up. "Would you prefer me to piss on you again? Would you like that, pup? Or what if I made you piss all over yourself, covered in your own fucking urine like a feral cat."

Stiles was quiet for a few moments. "That's disgusting," was his only response. 

"I'm glad you think so. Now, I've got something else for you to suck on, so get to work." He pushed on Stiles' shoulders, urging him to climb down his body. Stiles glared at him, but nonetheless he lifted the covers so he could slip under them, and awkwardly shuffled backwards until he was facing Derek's cock.

"I hate you," Stiles childishly murmured to Derek as he stared at the beautiful thing in front of him, his mouth watering at the sight. It was no secret, Stiles loved Derek's cock. 

Derek growled impatiently after Stiles stared at it for a good minute and eventually just shoved Stiles down onto his cock, effectively choking the boy. 

** 

After Stiles was done milking Derek of every drop of come his cock could spurt, and after Derek had given Stiles a quick and messy hand job, they were just lying on the bed, curled up in each other when Stiles hopped up and off the bed. 

"Where are you going?" Derek asksled him as he shifted onto one elbow. 

"To take a piss, duh. I've only been needing to go since I woke up," Stiles replied without even looking back at him, walking out of his bedroom completely comfortable with his nudity. 

Derek laid back down on the mattress, sighing with the effort. God, he was tired. Who knew that getting your nipples and cock sucked would take so much energy from him. 

Maybe he would rub Stiles' feet when he woke.  
He drifted off to Stiles' awful singing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thanks for reading and please comment your thoughts
> 
> and also for some unknown reason, ao3 won't let me write a chapter longer than about 1,350 words a chapter.
> 
> so that explains the short chapters . . .


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a short one, though next chapter should be up soon
> 
> ~enjoy

Derek woke up a few hours later, feeling well rested and in need to relieve himself. He yawned while throwing the bed covers off of him, swinging his legs off the bed and sitting up. He rubbed the sleep crud out of his eyes, and stood. 

He rolled his shoulders and sighed when he heard a satisfying pop. He shuffled out of the room and across the hall to the bathroom, not bothering to shut the door since he was already naked, he didn't have much else to hide. 

He stood in front of the toilet and pissed in the bowl, day dreaming of Stiles kneeling in front of him with his mouth open, allowing his mouth to be filled with Derek's piss and obediently swallowing after, his face pinched with concentration and disgust at the taste. 

Derek sighed heavily, and gave his half hard dick a quick shake. He flushed the toilet, turned and walked over to the sink. He washed his hands while staring at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was disheveled, no products in it today so instead of the quaff he usually adorned it was flat on his forehead, making him appear younger. 

He studied his face closely, his eyes completely free from the dark rings that he almost always had there. Derek frowned, he appeared as if he was glowing. He looked.. happy. 

He looked down, smiling while thinking of Stiles, the cause of his happiness. God, he was so in love with the boy. Just his smile alone, his adorable crooked toothy smile, was enough to completely brighten his day.

He turned and walked out of the bathroom and down the stairs. He walked past the kitchen then through the archway that led to the living room.

His smile widened when he saw Stiles, sitting cross legged on the floor in front of the couch, wearing his favourite pair of batman boxers. Their was a bowl of vanilla ice cream on the floor next to him, and Stiles had the spoon stuck in his mouth. 

He was playing call of duty on his beloved play station 3, rocking back and forth and groaning when he died. He set the controller on the floor beside him and picked up his bowl with one hand, plucking the spoon out of his mouth with the other. 

Derek blinked as he came back down to earth, realizing he had been staring at Stiles, standing frozen in the entryway. He walked over to Stiles and sat directly behind him on the floor, resting back on the couch. He wrapped his arms around Stiles' middle and pulled him close so Stiles was resting against him.

Stiles rested his head back on Derek's shoulder, and sighed while eating his ice cream. He pulled the spoon from his mouth and scooped up another heap, and brought the spoon back to his lips and shoved it in his mouth. He closed his eyes while chewing.

"You chew ice cream?" Derek asked him, brows raised in question. 

"Yes, I do," Stiles said with his mouth full, turning his head to look at him. "You don't?" 

"No, I didn't even know people chewed ice cream," Derek replied, one side of his mouth turning up in a smirk. "But then again, you are weird. Maybe it's just you."

Stiles frowned while letting his mouth drop open in mortification. "I'll let you know that I am not the only person who chews ice-cream, Mr I'm-so-perfect. Scott chews ice-cream, too!" Stiles says to him loudly while shoving another spoonful into his mouth. "And so what if I'm weird, my fab ass makes up for it."

Derek bent his head down and nipped at Stiles' neck, holding the exposed skin between his teeth. He then rutted his hips forward into said ass, his hard dick getting friction from rubbing up against Stiles' lower back. 

Derek continued his assault on Stiles' neck, then kissed his way up to his jaw and bit down roughly. Stiles let out a small grunt of pain when he did, but continued eating his ice cream in an attempt to ignore him. 

Derek lifted his head and looked at the boy, his eyes immediately fixating on those cock sucking lips wrapped sinfully around his spoon. Stiles looked at him, uncomfortable under his intense gaze, and slid the spoon out of his mouth, his tongue popping out momentarily to rake across his lower lip, chasing the ice cream that was left there. 

Derek waited until Stiles had another spoonful of ice cream in his mouth, then he leaned in when Stiles took the spoon away. He crushed his lips against Stiles' closed mouth, and coaxed the boy to open his mouth when he bit down roughly on his lower lip, causing the younger boy to gasp in pain. He immediately licked his way inside, scooping up the ice cream in the boys mouth with his tongue eagerly, then swallowing after.

Stiles frowned at him when he leaned back a bit, then brought up a hand to wipe away the ice cream that was slowly making its way down his chin. "You know, if you wanted ice cream so bad, you could've just asked," he said with a slightly hesitant tone. 

Derek just shrugged. "It tastes better when it's from your mouth. My piss would probably taste good if it came from your mouth," he said, lifting his hand up and thumbing at Stiles' lower lip, pulling it down and letting go, watching it jump back into place. 

Stiles let out a distressed whimper at his words, then leaned back suddenly. He went to get up. "Well, my ice cream is finished, so.. gonna' go and.. rinse my bowl," he said, even though he still had half a bowl of ice cream left.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longer than anticipated wait, but I've been super busy! 
> 
> This chapter was written a little rushed, because I didn't want to make you guys wait any longer. So, I apologise in advance for that. 
> 
> Please comment your thoughts, I love reading them!  
> -enjoy xxx

Stiles made a little squeaking noise when Derek stole the bowl from his hands, and frowned in confusion when he simply placed it on the floor beside them. Stiles was in a crouching position, his left arm resting on the seat of the couch, keeping him balanced. 

"You'll be staying here," Derek says to him, raking his hands up Stiles' naked thighs. 

Stiles swallowed and tried to get his voice to work. "I told Scott I'd come over today-" but is abruptly cut off. 

Cut off because Derek grabs him from around his waist, forces him towards him and then spins him around so fast it makes his head spin. He shoves Stiles forward so his torso is resting on the seat of the couch, his face mashed up against it. Stiles makes a confused sound and tries to get up. 

Derek just forces him down again, keeping one hand on the back of Stiles' neck and holding him there. He brings his other hand down to rest on Stiles' clothed butt cheek, then pushes the cheek aside. Stiles makes an uncomfortable sound, but Derek just shushes him. He then proceeds to mash his face into Stiles clothed ass, inhaling deeply through his nose and then exhaling heavily out his mouth. He does this repeatedly, fondling Stiles' ass cheek with one hand while breathing in the smell emanating from Stiles' ass. 

Stiles was shocked, and grossed out, to say the least. Derek was smelling him. And yeah, he knew it was a werewolf thing, but Derek was smelling his ass. You'd think he'd be fine with it, considering Derek had eaten him out before, even though he has no idea how. The thought of licking someone's asshole like that, is enough to make him nauseous. He loves to be on the receiving end, but he wouldn't ever do it. Stiles starts to struggle when Derek tugs down his boxers, exposing his pale ass right in Derek's face. Derek makes an approving sound, licks his lips and then dives in. He mouths at Stiles' clenching hole, then starts to suck it, squelching sounds coming from him. Stiles whimpers when Derek bites down on the tight muscle. Derek then leans back slightly, and stares at Stiles' hole. Just stares. He then shoves his nose as far as it will go up Stiles' ass, inhaling deeply. Stiles squirms under the weird suction feeling. Then Derek froze, and after a second, quickly backed away from Stiles and stood up. Stiles pulled up his boxers and turned around to face him, confused but relieved at the unknown interruption. "Your father is here," was all Derek said. Then he quickly spun on his heel and headed up the stairs to his room, Stiles guessed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, don't hesitate to comment :) xo  
> Until next time!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everybody 
> 
> So, I've decided to post this chapter early to make up for lost time. 
> 
> -enjoy xxx

Stiles sighed in exasperation as his dad walked through the front door, running his hands through his hair and glancing across the room at Stiles. His bowl of ice cream was sitting on the floor, half empty. Stiles pushed himself up from the ground and bent down to pick it up, walking into the kitchen and setting the bowl in the sink. He turned the water on and watched as the bowl filled with murky, vanilla ice cream contaminated water.

"Hello, Stiles," his dad greeted him as he came into the kitchen. He shuffled next to Stiles and reached up to open the cupboard, grabbing himself out a mug.

Stiles tipped the water out of the bowl, then filled it again and watched it fill distantly. He turned the tap off and placed his bowl down into the sink again, sighing and turning around to rest against the counter. "Hey, Dad," he said, tapping his fingers against the counter top. "You're home early."

His dad was brewing coffee-- black coffee. Gross. He poured the steaming liquid into his mug, set down the jug and took a small sip of his drink, sighing in satisfaction. "Yes, I am. Was ordered to, by Parrish. He said I looked exhausted and that he had everything covered there, so I was more than free to go home."

Stiles looked up at his dad, and saw that he did look exhausted. He had purple rings under his eyes, his frown lines more prominent, his eyelids practically drooping from lack of sleep. He looked ten years older than he was.

"Dad, you look like hell," he said without even thinking, straightening his posture and actually looking at his father for the first time in he didn't even know how long.

"Gee, thanks," his dad huffed, leaning back slightly into the counter behind him, his shoulders relaxing the tiniest bit. His eyes closed when he took another sip of coffee, his chest and shoulders heaving with another sigh.

"No, dad. Seriously. You look-- are you okay?" he asked his father, his voice changing from surprised to worried in a second.

"What-- yes, I'm fine, Stiles. I'm perfectly fine," his dad was quick to assure him as he heard the worry in his voice, his hand coming up to rest on his son's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"You sure?" Stiles asked, one of his eyebrows raising. "Because you look like the living dead."

His father chuckled, pulling his hand away after one more squeeze. "Yes, Stiles. I'm healthy as a horse."

Stiles smiled as his father backed away. "You should get some rest. Like, now. Get on that now," he told him in his best stern voice.

His father laughed again. "Yes, sir," then walked off down the hall to his bedroom. 

Stiles smiled at him again, before giving him a quick hug and jogging up the stairs, sighing heavily as he pushed the door open.

His bedroom was deserted, empty, completely free from Derek Hale.

He jumped onto his bed and sprawled out on his stomach, squirming around until he was comfortable. He fluffed up his pillow and nuzzled his face into it, closing his eyes. He was asleep within the minute.

***

When he woke up, the sun wasn't as bright as it was before he drifted off. He groaned quietly as he raised his arms above his head in a stretch, yawning loudly and sighing when his jaw cracked. He settled back down onto his bed, closing his eyes and throwing his arm over them, when he heard his window open up.

He raised his arm and lifted his head lazily, silently staring at Derek as he closed the window. His eyes followed Derek as he stepped closer to the bed, and watched as he settled onto the end of it.

"Hey," Derek said to him, looking at him with his head bowed low. Stiles knew he could sense his bad mood.

He wasn't sure exactly why he was in such a sour mood; maybe because of how Derek acted this morning. He wasn't sure, but he felt like they had been going better now. Smoother. He felt happier around Derek, and safer. He honestly wasn't sure exactly just how he felt for Derek, but he didn't think it was in a romantic way. At least not yet.

"Hi," Stiles said flatly, sitting up against the headboard. Derek winced. "Sorry about this morning--" 

"No you're not. Don't say you're sorry if you're not." 

Derek looked at him, surprised. They stared at each other for a long moment before Stiles deflated, sighing. 

"Sorry," he said quietly. Derek smiled slightly.

"Don't say you're sorry if you're not," he quoted, and Stiles let out an amused huff of laughter. "Shut up," he mumbled, then patted the space next to him on the bed inviting. "Wanna nap with me?"

Derek shrugged and spread out next to him. Stiles slid slightly down the bed and cuddled up close to Derek, slinging an arm around his waist and placing his head on his chest. "Listen for dad," he said, already sleepy. "He was sent home from work today." Derek hummed in affirmation and ran a hand through his hair, soothing him. Stiles made a happy sound, content, and settled in for sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I was listening to Dean Ray the entire time I wrote this. if you don't know who Dean Ray is.. Google him!  
> you don't know what your missing out on.  
> he's like, my favourite aussie singer.  
> oh, and also, I wasn't sure if I had mentioned it before. but if there are words in my story that not all of you recognize or understand, it's because they are Australian words. and yes, I am Australian :) just to clear that up! I'll stop my rambling now


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... It has been quite a while, has it not? Sorry folks. I am lacking motivation severely

Stiles blinked a few times as he slowly woke up, sitting up in bed and rubbing his tired eyes. He yawned and looked around his room; the sun had completely set by now, the open window letting in a cool breeze that made Stiles shiver and pull the blankets up around his shoulders as he settled back down into the mattress. He rolled onto his side and nuzzled into his pillow, preparing to go back to sleep. He smiled softly as he felt Derek shift on the bed next to him, then hummed in content when the older man snaked an arm around his waist and pulled Stiles back to rest against his chest. 

"You're warm," Stiles whispered, pulling Derek's arm tighter around his waist. 

"I'm a werewolf," Derek responded in a hushed whisper, nestling his face into the crook of Stiles' neck comfortably. 

"My sourwolf," Stiles hummed, smirking. 

"Shut up, Stiles," Derek grumbled, frowning into his hair. Stiles laughed lightly then squirmed back into Derek's warmth, and not long after he had drifted off into a restful sleep. 

***

"Stiles?" 

Stiles whined when he was awoken by his name being said in a loud voice. The smell of coffee was wafting in the air, and Stiles immediately wanted a mug full of the delicious beverage, but he was too damn tired. 

"Stiles, wake up," the voice said again, and Stiles felt a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him. 

Stiles huffed and grunted, shaking the hand off. "Go away, Derek," he whined, pulling the blanket over his head. "Let me sleep..." he trailed off, already half asleep. 

There was a moment of silence that made Stiles uneasy. 

"Derek?" the voice said again, tinged with confusion and slight suspicion. 

Stiles threw the blanket off of his head and stared up at his dad, who had his arms folded across his chest and a disapproving frown set on his face. 

"Oh, hey!" Stiles said loudly, laughing uneasily. His father stared at him like he had just told him he can see purple people. "What's up, dad?" 

"What is up," Stiles' dad said slowly, "Is that I've been called into work..." he trailed off, still staring at Stiles warily. 

"But you still look like death!" Stiles exclaimed, to which his dad laughed, shaking his head. 

"Thanks for that, Stiles." 

"No, for real!" Stiles stressed, sitting up. "You're the boss... you don't have to go in today." 

"Even the boss has a boss, Stiles," his dad said. 

Stiles stared at him, unamused. "Yeah, but this is Beacon Hills," he deadpanned, "You're the Sheriff, dad."

"Exactly," the older man said, "I am the Sheriff and therefore, I have to protect my town," he said, walking out of his son's bedroom. Stiles rolled his eyes. 

"You can hardly call this place a town!" 

Stiles huffed and fell back onto his mattress, debating going back to bed. He sighed heavily when he realised that he was now wide awake, and needed coffee pronto.


	12. Chapter 12

Stiles spent the day lazing around the house, sipping on his much appreciated coffee and plonking down onto the couch to watch TV. For once in his life that he could remember, he didn't have the energy to do anything. He felt sluggish and heavy, tired and worn out. He hoped he wasn't coming down with anything, he already had his dad to look after. He didn't need any added pressure and stress piled onto his already full plate. 

After at least three hours of pointlessly watching TV and glancing occasionally at his empty mug- too tired to make another coffee but desperately craving one- his phone buzzed with a phone call from Scott. 

"S'up dude," Stiles mumbled into the speaker, picking at a loose thread on his pajama pants. 

"Hey Stiles," Scott said, sounding distracted. "Um, is it okay with Derek if I come over?" 

"Derek's not here," Stiles said, glancing at his surroundings just to make sure Derek wasn't lurking in the corner like a creeper.

"Oh, well I'm coming over," Scott announced, suddenly sounding more alert. 

"Okay then." 

Stiles looked down at his phone, raising a quizzical eyebrow. The screen showed that the call was disconnected and he stared at the contact photo he had set for Scott. The picture was of him and Scott, both of them grinning happily with an arm thrown over each others shoulder's. Stiles furrowed his eyebrows and inspected the picture closer. He looked so... different, somehow. His hair was freshly buzzed and Stiles ran a hand over his head consciously. His hair had started growing out, seemingly without him noticing. 

That wasn't what made him appear so different, though. It was in his face, his expression, and even the way he held himself. Stiles stared at the picture for a moment longer before shaking his head and throwing the phone down beside himself on the couch. 

After a minute of internally fighting with himself he finally decided to haul his lazy ass off the couch and into the kitchen, setting down his coffee mug and preparing another one, not even bothering to rinse the mug like he usually would. He looked down at his plain white t-shirt and his pajama pants with the little cartoon cows on them and thought about maybe changing into something a little more presentable, but then immediately shot that idea down. It was just Scott. 

On his way back to the lounge room he glanced at the calendar tacked to the wall beside the fridge. He only had two days before school started up again. He sighed and shuffled into the lounge room and sat down on the couch, steaming coffee in hand. He was sipping at it slowly for a few minutes before there was a knock on the front door. Stiles sighed heavily when he realised he would have to get up. He heaved himself off the ancient couch and grumpily walked to the front door, opening it to reveal the grinning face of his best friend, his jaw as crooked as ever. 

"Hey buddy," Stiles mumbled unenthusiastically, turning around and walking back the way he came. 

He resumed his previous position on the couch, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table and watching Scott with bored eyes as the boy stood awkwardly in the entry way of the lounge room.

"Stiles," Scott finally said after a few beats of tense silence. "We need to talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know these two last chapters haven't been as eventful as others, but I think it's important for the plot. And also sorry for never updating, I wasn't lying about the lack of motivation but I've also been very sick and in and out of the hospital more times than I can remember the past two months. Damn immune system


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly not proud of this chapter at all... Damn. Hopefully next chapter will be better?

For a minute Stiles had began to feel uneasy. Those words never meant anything good. 

"...About what?" he asked after what felt like hours of suspenseful silence. 

Scott sighed and his shoulders slouched sadly. "Allison." 

Stiles had to stifle the relieved sigh he let out. "Come on, lay it on me buddy." 

***

Scott had been there for almost an hour. Stiles knew this because he kept glancing up at the clock, sighing heavily each time when he saw that only a few minutes had passed since the last time he had checked. He would force his attention back to Scott and nod and smile emphatically at the right times. He didn't have to attempt to comfort Scott, the boy just kept talking and talking, gesturing wildly with his hands. 

"-and now she's saying we should take a break, that she needs space!" 

The hand of the clock ticked by ever so slowly. 

"Stiles?" 

One hour and five minutes. 

"Stiles!"

Stiles jumped, startled back to reality. He shook his head and forced his gaze back to Scott. "Yeah, buddy?" 

Scott sighed and gave him the eyes that resembled the painful and heart warming adorableness of a puppy. "Were you listening to me at all?" he asked, his voice high pitched and whiny. 

"Of course I was listening," Stiles scoffed, "Allison will come back to you, Scott. She always does." 

Apparently that satisfied Scott, who launched back into the rant of his on-and-off again girlfriend. Stiles buckled himself in for the unfortunate ride. 

After another ten minutes (that the clock helpfully supplied) Stiles was just about ready to tear his hair out. He opted instead to maybe tell a little white lie and say he had to go and pick up lunch for his dad at the station and hoped Scott wouldn't hear the subtle quickening of his pulse. He was just opening his mouth to do exactly that when Scott paused in the middle of his sentence and cocked his head to the side, and not a moment later Stiles heard it too; thumping footsteps stomping out of his room (that was right above the lounge room) and thundering down the stairs. 

Derek appeared suddenly, standing in the arch way that lead into the lounge room that Stiles' mother was always so fond of. His chest was rapidly rising and falling with the force of his heaving breaths and his hands were balled into fists, his hard and penetrating gaze fixed on Scott. Stiles could hear a low guttural sound and after a moment he realised that it was Derek growling. 

Stiles swallowed audibly. "Um... Derek?" he said quietly, his voice slightly lost in the seemingly never ending growl emitting from Derek's throat. 

Derek's eyes shot over to him and Stiles shrunk back into the couch at the attention. The gaze was too intense and Stiles found himself lowering his head, breaking the stare. After another moment, the growling stopped so Derek could speak. 

"Why is he here?" he spat, glaring at Scott. 

"He... I mean..." Stiles trailed off, his mouth opening and closing rapidly. He gulped and looked to Scott for help. Scott rolled his eyes and matched Derek's glare with one of his own. 

"I came over here to see my best friend," he said firmly. "Got a problem with that, Derek?" 

Derek didn't answer the question. He bounded forward towards them and grabbed Stiles by his elbow, yanking him up from the couch roughly.

"What are you doing?! Let him go!" Scott shouted, standing up and stepping close to Derek, getting in his face and growing fiercely. 

"Leave," Derek said, his voice eerily calm. "Now." 

"I'm not going anywhere," Scott hissed. "He's allowed a life outside of you, you know!" 

"Scott, it's fine," Stiles said, glancing at Derek before smiling hesitantly at Scott. "I'll see you tomorrow?" 

Derek growled and yanked him closer. 

"Okay, okay, not tomorrow," Stiles said quickly. "But, um... at school?" 

Scott scoffed and shot Derek a disgusted look. "Whatever," he said darkly. "Just don't come crying to me when this ends badly." And with that, he turned around and walked out of the room without a backwards glance, and a moment later Stiles heard the front door open and close loudly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have obviously been updating faster than usual because I feel bad for dropping off the face of the earth for a while there


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Hello again

"God damnit, Derek!" Stiles hissed, attempting to yank his arm from Derek's grip. And obviously failing. "The hell was that!"

Derek just glowered at him, his nostrils flaring ridiculously with the effort of his breathing. Any other time and Stiles would have laughed. His grip tightened on his arm and Stiles winced, ceasing his struggling. Derek's grip loosened slightly. Stiles sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again and looking up at Derek, meeting his angered gaze. The dude was still angry! 

"Okay, seriously. What is your problem?" 

"My problem?" Derek repeated so quietly that if Stiles hadn't seen his lips form the words, he would've thought it was only his ears tricking him. Wouldn't be the first time. "Do you go out of your way to piss me off, Stiles?"

Stiles scoffed, shaking his head. "Yes, Derek. I like to spend my short miserable life thinking of ways to spontaneously piss off a werewolf with extreme anger issues. You've got me." Stiles held his free hand up in mock surrender.

"This isn't the time for your sarcastic remarks, Stiles," Derek hissed, yanking him closer by his arm. Stiles rolled his eyes and Derek growled. 

"For fucks sake Derek, no I do not deliberately piss you off. I am sorry if my best friend being here bothers you, but that really isn't my problem, okay? I'm going to invite Scott around any time I want, even if I get an entire life's worth of facts about Allison Argent. I could literally write a biography about her entire life at this point," Stiles rambled, throwing his hand in the air for emphasis. 

"Scott is not welcome here," Derek said coldly. "And that goes for everyone else, too."

Stiles glared at him, temporarily at a loss for what to do. After a while of them glowering at each other, Derek let him go. Stiles stepped back immediately, rubbing his arm where Derek's vice grip had been. Without another work spoken, Stiles turned and ran up the stairs and into his bedroom, slamming his door shut. He crossed the room and shut the window with excessive force, making sure Derek heard it when he turned the lock. He sighed heavily and stared out of the window. Who did Derek think he was? Who died and made him boss?

He turned and walked over to his bed, sitting on the edge and resting his elbows on his knees, placing his face into his palms. He was too young for this, seriously. He was seventeen! He wasn't even legal to drink yet. 

After a while of him pondering - he doesn't know exactly how long, but it felt like hours - he got up off his bed and exited his bedroom, descending the stairs slowly. He entered the living room and stopped, crossing his arms and waiting. 

Derek walked into the room a moment later, as Stiles knew he would. Stiles looked at him evenly as he approached and stopped in front of him. 

"Derek," Stiles said after a few moments of tense silence had passed. 

Derek nodded ever so slightly, just a small movement of his head to indicate he was listening. 

"I... think... we should stop," Stiles stuttered, breaking the stare. Derek frowned, then grunted in confusion. 

"Stop what?"

Stiles sighed. He flailed his arms, indicating to the both of them with erratic hand gestures. "This! Whatever this is," he elaborated, looking at Derek with eyes begging him to understand. 

Derek didn't say anything. He just stared at Stiles with furrowed eyebrows. Stiles swallowed nervously, biting his lip. After a while he frowned, making a face at Derek. He lifted a hand and waved it in front of Derek's face. 

"Hello? Anybody home?" he asked slowly. 

Derek growled. His face contorted in anger so ferocious that Stiles gasped and stepped back, afraid that Derek would lash out at him in his rage. But as quick as the anger bestowed itself upon Derek, it was gone. Just like that. 

Derek looked at him with an unreadable expression, his eyebrows twitching. Then he turned around and disappeared down the hallway, and just like with Scott, Stiles could hear it as he opened the front door and stepped out, swinging it shut behind him. The silence that followed was almost deafening, his ears ringing with it. 

Well, that just happened. Stiles is so going to be prematurely grey. He sighed, leaning back against the wall and letting his mind think over what had just happened. He slid down the wall until his ass hit the wooden floor boards, letting his head fall back and hit the wall with a thud.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. 
> 
> I sound like a broken record...
> 
> Enjoy (Hopefully)

"Dude-- what?" Stiles said slowly, squinting his eyes at his best friend. Scott groaned and rolled his own eyes. 

"Isaac is coming over to mine tonight so you can't stay again." 

"... And since when are you and him all buddy buddy?" 

Scott shrugged nonchalantly. "Since forever," he mumbled, munching on his french fries with intent, avoiding his best friend's eyes. 

Stiles huffed out a laugh without humour. "Oh, alright then... but the last time I checked, you and Isaac were each other's nemesis and always at each other's necks. You would rather spend a night with Jackson than have to endure his company," Stiles grumbled, pushing his tray of food away. He was not fucking pouting.

Scott groaned, turning to glare at him. "Stiles! Stop with this bullshit." 

"Whatever, Scott," Stiles said tonelessly. He sighed and looked around the cafeteria, his eyes fleeting over everybody until he saw Isaac, sitting at the table near the back with Boyd and Erica. Isaac was laughing at something Erica had said, and their eyes met. The smile dropped from Isaac's face and he glared at Stiles, the look so intense that it caused a chill to run down his spine. He sat up straight and looked away quickly, swallowing nervously and wincing when his throat stuck with dryness and his hands shook from the nerves that were suddenly overwhelming him. 

"...and then my dad came over last night, and tried to act like he knew me and that he hadn't fucking left us and my mum was just going along with it, all like 'did you want more chicken'."

Stiles shook his head as he came back down to earth. He looked over at Scott, who was rambling incessantly about his father or something. He sighed heavily and slumped down in his seat, his eyes automatically glancing over to Isaac who was now staring out the huge glass window beside him, his arms folded across his chest and wrinkling his designer t-shirt. 

"I think your boyfriend has a problem with me," Stiles said quietly, jumping when he heard his own voice. He didn't mean to speak out loud, or even think that in his head.

Scott rolled his eyes with a huff. "He's not my boyfriend, and Stiles... stop it, okay?" 

Stiles looked at him, surprised. "What?"

Scott settled him with an unimpressed look. He looked rather resigned. "I can have other friends." 

"I- I never said you couldn't," Stiles mumbled, looking down at his lap self consciously. He squirmed around in the hard cafeteria seat, feeling Scott's gaze on him like a laser beam. 

Scott sighed. "Just... whatever. Isaac is my friend and just because you don't like him or whatever the hell your problem is, doesn't mean I have to drop all my plans and spend all my time with you when I could be hanging out with him."

Stiles looked down at his hands that he was wringing together nervously. Scott's words cut him deep, and he didn't know why. He felt like crying. He could still feel Scott's eyes on him, so he nodded slowly, feeling like a pathetic loser. A pathetic unwanted loser.

"I'm gonna go talk to him, okay?" Scott said before getting up, not waiting for a response before crossing the cafeteria towards Isaac. Stiles glanced up to see Isaac smirking at him smugly. He frowned and looked back down at his hands. He lasted twenty seconds before he got up and walked in the opposite direction then Scott, leaving the cafeteria altogether. He sighed shakily as he wondered the halls aimlessly. He saw the schools front blue doors and paused, biting his lip nervously as he looked at them, contemplating. He looked over his shoulder then back at the door before deciding. 

"Fuck it," he muttered under his breath and pushed through the front doors, staring at his shoes as he walked down the front steps. He heard a rumble and looked up at the sky, seeing the dark clouds hovering above him. It was at least a thirty minute walk back to his home and he hadn't taken his Jeep this morning... guess he was walking home in the rain. He would be the image of a walking fucking cliche. 

He started down the side walk just as it started to sprinkle lightly, and as he crossed the street without looking to see if any cars were coming, it started pouring down. He sighed and lifted a hand, running his fingers through his hair. He missed his buzz cut, but couldn't be fucked doing anything about it. He passed a gas station and stopped. He felt around in his jeans pocket for his wallet, and when he felt the wallet shaped bulge he started for the gas station. He entered the small store and crossed to the refrigerators, grabbing a RedBull and walking to the front of the store, looking at the clerk nervously. He swallowed thickly and looked behind the clerk to the rows of cigarettes lined up behind him. He used to smoke sometimes, back when Scott first turned. He found it helped a lot with the stress. 

"Is that all today?" The young clerk asked in a bored voice as he scanned Stiles' drink. 

"Um, no... can I have a pack of Marlboro's?" Stiles asked nervously. The clerk frowned. 

"Have an ID?" he asked. Stiles nodded and grabbed out his wallet, fishing out the fake ID that he begged Danny to get made for him. He handed it to the clerk and he inspected it, and Stiles expected to have it handed back to him, the clerk calling him out on his lie. But he only nodded and passed it back, Stiles' eyes widening slightly as he slowly put it back in his wallet. 

"Marlboro's? What kind?" 

"Um... do you have the Marlboro's ice blast, twenty five pack?" Stiles asked. The clerk nodded and grabbed the pack of cigarettes, setting them down in front of him. 

"That will be $29.99 in total, sir," he said. Stiles bit his lip and grabbed out a wrinkled fifty dollar note and waited for the clerk to hand him back his change. He grabbed his smokes and energy drink and left the store quickly, before remembering he had no lighter. He blushed in embarrassment when he walked back in and purchased the lighter, not looking back as he walked out again. Immediately he opened his pack of cigarettes and fished one out, placing it between his lips as he struggled to light the tip in the stormy weather. Eventually he managed, and he inhaled a lungful of the toxic smoke before holding it between his index and middle finger, puffing on the cancer stick as he walked home. He chained smoked the rest of the way, the thirty minute walk taking up five cigarettes. He made sure his Dad wasn't home as he walked up the driveway, unlocking the front door with his house key and shuffling inside, shaking his wet hair out as his clothes dripped rain water onto the wooden floorboards. 

Stiles immediately climbed the stairs up to his bedroom and crossed to his bed, dropping down with a heavy sigh. He cracked open his RedBull and sipped at it, already thinking ahead to the energy that would be thrumming through his veins soon enough. He felt his phone vibrate in his jeans pocket and sighed as he grabbed it out, seeing a text from Scott asking where he was. He frowned and switched his phone off, letting it fall off the side of the bed carelessly. He gulped down half his energy drink and set it down on his bed side table and sighed as he stared up at his ceiling. He was so tense... and stressed. He was starting to look like his Dad. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. He chewed on the inside of his mouth as he trailed a hand down his chest, running his fingers in lazy circles. He undid his jeans and pushed them down his thighs along with his briefs and squirmed to get comfortable as he stroked his already half hard cock. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of his thumb raking over the head of his cock, already leaking precome. Fleeting thoughts of Lydia flashed in his head; her delicate skin, her strawberry blonde hair, her plump lips... Then suddenly the images changed; biceps, pecs, spiral tattoos... stupid fucking werewolves.   
He gasped as he stroked the sensitive skin under the head of his dick, and couldn't help the images of Derek, the stupid fucking sourwolf. He didn't last much longer than that, coming with a grunt and feeling his seed spill over his stomach through his t-shirt. He sighed breathily and blinked his eyes open. He kicked his jeans off the rest of the way after toeing his shoes off. He sat up and whipped off his shirt, dropping back down onto the mattress heavily after throwing it aside. He shuffled around for a minute, moving under the covers and nuzzling into his pillow. He was asleep seven minutes later, his tense muscles having relaxed with his orgasm. 

*** 

"Stiles!" 

Stiles snapped awake abruptly and sat up in bed, blinking away the traces of sleep lingering in his eyes. 

"Stiles, what are these?"

Stiles looked up and saw his Dad standing beside his bed, his forehead wrinkled and his eyebrows furrowed together into a frown. In his hand he was brandishing a packet of cigarettes, waving them around. Stiles groaned loudly and dropped back down onto his mattress, clamping his eyes shut.

"They're not mine Dad, if that's what you're thinking," he said, the lie coming easily enough.

"Oh, and I'm expected to just believe that?"

Stiles rolled his eyes under his lids. "Yeah, you are," he mumbled, fighting back a yawn. 

"Drop the attitude, Stiles!" his father yelled, making Stiles open his eyes. He sat up, making sure the blanket covered his naked lower half. "Well you drop the interrogation, Sheriff!"

His dad levelled him with a firm look. "Stiles, why are you smoking?" 

"They're not mine! And even if they were, what's it to you?" Stiles yelled back, his patience wearing thin.

"Well who's are they then?" his Dad inquired, ignoring Stiles' other question. It was obviously rhetorical. 

"They're Scott's," Stiles said, sighing. The lying was becoming easier with every second. "He had them with him today at school and he gave them to me because he didn't want his mum to find out, because his asthma has been playing up a lot lately. Melissa had to pick Scott up from school and they were in his bag, along with his asthma puffer. He didn't want Melissa going through his bag and finding them." 

"Why not just throw them out?" his father asked, squinting his eyes. Stiles rolled his own.

"You know how much money these things cost?" he asked, another rhetorical question, of course. His dad just rolled his eyes and looked down at the packet of cigarettes again before dropping them onto Stiles' bed. 

"I'm choosing to believe you, Stiles. I don't really want Scott smoking either, but I think I should leave that problem with him and Melissa to discuss. Now the reason I came up here is because of your hoodie... it was on the door step," his dad said, and Stiles only then noticed his purple hoodie in his dad's hands. He hadn't seen it in ages, and tried to rack his brains thinking why it could have possibly shown up on his doorstep, of all places. His dad dropped it on the bed next to the cigarettes and only when he was leaving the room and closing the door behind him did Stiles remember. 

Derek had taken that hoodie. 

It was maybe after the third night that Derek had climbed through his bedroom window, making himself completely at home. It was one of the nights that his dad was home from work early, and Derek didn't stay the night. When he was tugging on his jeans he frowned thoughtfully at the floor, and Stiles watched as he bent down and picked up Stiles' purple hoodie, bringing it up to his face and sniffing the fabric deeply. His chest rumbled with a possessive growl as his nostrils filled with the uninterrupted scent of Stiles. He didn't even ask if he could take it, he just finished dressing and slipped out of the window with Stiles' hoodie clutched in his hand.

 

Now Stiles stared down at the same hoodie. It looked a little worse for wear, and when Stiles slowly brought it up to his face and inhaled deeply, he was hit with a sense of nostalgia as the scent of Derek filled his nostrils this time. He bit his lip as it began to tremble feebly and fisted the hoodie in his hand, blinking his eyes against oncoming tears. After a moment's hesitation he threw the hoodie across his bedroom and burrowed underneath his blankets again, sniffling and hating himself a little bit more with every second that ticked by. 

Obviously he hadn't meant all that much to Derek. 

But that was a good thing, he told himself. Now he could see about starting a potential relationship with somebody he had feelings for. He didn't even like Derek. He was only using him for practice, and to be honest, to get off. 

He didn't even like Derek. 

He didn't have feelings for Derek.

He didn't like Derek. 

His resolve seemed to crumble the more he tried to reassure himself, and he found himself crying into his pillow like a baby. Another cliche. 

All for someone he didn't even like. 

Because he didn't like Derek. 

He didn't.

 

He couldn't... Not anymore.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suffering through writers block. And have no idea how this story is going to end. 
> 
> Enjoy

Somehow Stiles' life had completely gone back to the way it had been before he and Derek had started fooling around.

Just like that, with no confusion or a feeling of unease. He felt just the same as before -- just with a slight increase in sexual experience. 

You know, except for that always present feeling of self hatred and regret stuck deep inside of him. 

But nothing - absolutely fucking nothing - could quell the burning in the pit of his stomach, churning and boiling over uncontrollably like a misunderstood monster.

Absolutely nothing could beat his jealousy.

***

"I don't know man, I'm just saying it's weird," Scott said with a shrug, his eyes not leaving the TV screen as he wiped his fingers on his jeans, smudging Cheeto's dust on the denim carelessly. 

Stiles tried to appear like he didn't care, but the monster in his stomach was clawing around inside of him and causing him to see nothing but red. He nodded slowly and nibbled on his bottom lip in agitation, trying to stamp down the rapid swell of voices raging inside of his own head, all wanting to know the same thing. His lip was raw and chapped from biting it so much. 

"Like, it's weird but also really awesome. I mean, everything is so awesome now. The whole front room has been like repaired and everything and he bought all these leather couch chairs so everyone has somewhere to sit. And he bought a new fridge, too, and he actually has edible food in there- oh, yeah he fixed up the kitchen a bit- and he has electricity now, obviously, so the fridge can run-"

Stiles blocked out the rest of Scott's rant and sighed heavily as he stared vacantly at the TV screen. Some movie was on but he couldn't gather enough concentration together into figuring out what movie it was. 

He knew it was stupid and really fucking selfish, but part of him- fuck that- all of him was so fucking angry at the fact that apparently, Derek was fine.

Derek was absolutely fine. 

He wasn't heart broken, he wasn't sitting around and moping, thinking back on his time with Stiles. No, he was apparently so fucking fine that he was repairing the burnt out shell that was his house. 

All of them at one point had broached the subject of the Hale house. It was the one place they had their pack meetings and where Derek lived, but he never showed any interest in doing the place up when they had asked him about it. He just shrugged at them or in Stiles' case, just levelled him with a blank stare until Stiles eventually rolled his eyes and let the subject go.

"So... how is Derek?" Stiles asked, trying for nonchalant and hoping Scott wouldn't notice the tightness to his voice. But Scott was happily munching away on his chips, so he didn't notice how Stiles was acting. He only shrugged and talked through a mouthful of half chewed food. 

"He's fine, I guess. Same as always."

Stiles' eyelid twitched and his jaw clenched. He blinded furiously, trying to see anything but the voluminous red leaking into his vision. Derek was fine. Just fucking peachy. 

"But he has been acting kind of weird lately," Scott mumbled, wiping his hand on the front of his hoodie carelessly. Stiles perked up. Maybe Derek really did miss him, and was trying to cover it up by renovating the wreck of his home. But Scott had been a werewolf for ages now and could detect emotions effortlessly, even Derek's emotions, who was a born werewolf. 

"Weird, how?" Stiles prompted, looking at Scott from the corners of his eyes. Scott shrugged and seemed to be concentrating on how to say what he was thinking. 

"He seems happier. He actually smiled at me the other day. You know I've never actually seen his teeth before then?"

Stiles deflated, a sigh heaving up from his chest and forcing its way out of his mouth as Scott continued talking about the new and improved Derek. 

***

It was a week later when Stiles and Scott were in the school cafeteria that it happened. 

Scott shot up from his seat suddenly, making Stiles jump three feet in the air. Scott looked frantically around the cafeteria before his eyes met with Isaac's from across the room. They shared a look before they nodded to each other decisively and simultaneously ran for the cafeteria doors, Boyd and Erica not far behind them. 

Stiles gaped after them for a moment before he too shot up from his seat and ran from the crowded cafeteria. 

He found them outside of the school, hunched over a shiny black Camaro idling in the car park. He scoffed and rolled his eyes even while his heart skipped a beat. 

He slowly made his way over and faintly heard Derek shouting at them. He caught a glance of Derek between Scott and Isaac; Derek was wearing a pristine leather jacket with sunglasses covering his eyes. Stiles narrowed his eyes at him and sneered, even while his legs automatically carried him closer.

"-go! Do it now!" He heard the last of Derek's shouting and then Scott, Isaac, Boyd and Erica were sprinting across the car park, all in different directions. Stiles watched them go with confusion, then threw his hands in the air, flailing. He looked back over to Derek, who was about to drive off. He ran for the car and pulled open the passenger side door, dropping down in the seat while panting with the effort. 

"What are you doing."

Stiles scoffed, looking over at Derek. "What are you doing? What are they doing?" he exclaimed, gesturing to where Scott had disappeared. 

Derek glared at him through his shades, then shook his head and looked away. He seemed to know Stiles wasn't going to go away, because he sped out of the schools parking lot. "Pack business."

Stiles raised his eyebrows. "Um, I may not be a fury creature of the night, but I'm pretty sure I'm somewhat involved with the Pack. So tell me, what's going on?" 

Derek audibly grinded his teeth, his jaw muscles working. "The barriers been breached."

"The- the barrier?" Stiles echoed. He slumped back in his seat. "I was expecting something worse."

Derek rolled his eyes and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "Sorry to disappoint you."

Stiles huffed out an un-amused laugh before the car was shrouded in ear ringing silence. He chewed on his bottom lip before nervously running his hands over his thighs, glancing out the window. "Uh, where are we going?" 

"Just shut up."

Stiles looked at Derek, his eyes narrowed. "That was rude."

"Shut up. You're the one who jumped into my car, I'm not stopping what I'm doing just because you decided to interrupt."

Stiles huffed and rolled his eyes, making a face in the reflection of the window. The car was filled once again with the awkward silence. He glanced over at Derek, who was concentrating on the road. He bit his bottom lip and looked Derek over. "New wardrobe, huh?" 

Derek spared him an annoyed glance before returning his gaze to the road. 

The new jeans Derek was wearing left nothing to the imagination. And of course, Stiles didn't really need to imagine, considering he'd seen it all before. But still; Derek's thigh muscles flexed with every slight movement. Stiles' mouth watered and he unconsciously bit down on his bottom lip. 

Before he knew what he was doing, he was reaching an arm out and sliding his hand over Derek's thigh, squeezing slightly. He felt Derek tense under him. He glanced up at his face to gauge his reaction before moving his hand inward to the inside of Derek's thigh, his fingers millimetres away from his crotch. He was about to slide his hand up and cup Derek's tempting bulge before his hand was slapped away and the car was pulled sharply to the side of the road. 

"Get out." 

Stiles stared at Derek, shocked. "What?" 

Derek leaned over and opened Stiles' door. "Leave. Get out." 

"Wha- I don't know where we are!" Stiles protested, trying to shove Derek's hands off him as they tried to undo Stiles' seatbelt. 

"Walk two minutes up the road and turn right. You'll be three streets away from your house. Now get out."

"Derek!" Stiles exclaimed, then grunted as he was pushed from the car, landing on his ass on the hard gravel. He frowned up at Derek, but the man was already reaching over and pulling the door closed. Stiles quickly crawled back to avoid getting his legs run over, and Derek pulled back onto the road and sped away. Stiles stared after the car until it vanished from sight. It took him another thirty seconds before he stood up and brushed off his ass, his ego bruised.

He walked home in resigned defeat, trying not to cry as the sharp sting of rejection cut through him.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning for slight rape/non-con and violence. Stay safe!

Stiles was out at the club.  
He was at the gay club, trying to look like he belonged there, and hoping to grab some guys attention.  
He got sick of sitting at home and moping like a preteen about Derek, so he decided to do something about it. This was him doing something about it.  
At the time, it seemed like a pretty good idea, but he found himself regretting it now as he anxiously stood along the wall, glancing nervously at the raucous crowd of people grinding up against each other, and squinting his eyes against the strobe lights that kept flashing down at the crowd. The music was decidedly terrible, some God awful techno blasting from the DJ booth up on the raised platform. Seriously, a DJ? At a gay club?  
He felt extremely insignificant and out of his element as he leaned against the wall, one foot propped up with his hand holding his half-full drink (coke) resting on his thigh.  
Being here, at the exact same club where he and Scott had been a little over a year ago, only made him miss his best friend as he remembered Jackson, Danny and all the other people affected that night. He missed those nights. Being with his best friend, with the Pack. With Derek.  
He rolled his eyes at himself as he realised his thoughts were back to Derek again. He shook his head and brought his drink up to his mouth and took a sip, merely for something to do, and happened to glance up mid-drink, and his eyes connected with the gaze of some dude staring at him from halfway across the club. The room was dark, except for the annoying strobe lights, and on another occasion he probably wouldn't be able to see, but considering these guys eyes were flashing a blood red, he couldn't miss it.  
For one heart wrenching and beautiful moment, Stiles thought it was Derek.  
He thought somehow, Derek fricken Hale was in a gay club, standing amongst the throng of sexually driven people dancing and grinding up on each other... but then the annoying strobe lights flickered down onto the mysterious guy and he caught a glimpse of blonde hair, and instead of the thick, muscular frame of Derek, this guy was slim. But not particularly unmuscular, as he did have muscles, Stiles could see. Just a smaller, more graceful frame.  
Stiles was so enraptured in his thoughts and his observation of this guy that he failed to notice that the mysterious guy was coming over his way, advancing on him, and once again the annoying strobe lights shone down and this time, Stiles caught a glimpse of a wild smirk, almost animal like, with sharp, predatory teeth all on show. Stiles felt a shiver run down his spine, and his drink fell from his hand and spilled to the floor. He barely even noticed, seeming as the stranger grew closer and closer each second. Stiles felt cornered, even though he wasn't backed into a corner... he was leaning against a flat, concrete wall. Oh, and now he was being pinned against it by the strange guy.  
"Hey there, pretty thing," the guy purred, and Stiles could smell alcohol on his breath, mixed with the weird, almost toxic smell of wolfsbane. "What is a little thing like you doing out here, all alone?"  
Stiles wanted to point out that he was in a club filled with people, therefore very much not alone, but the guy spoke again before he could even open his mouth.  
"Hmm... I might call you Little Red. It seems to fit the part, yeah?" he said, smirking and showing off his razor sharp, but pearly white teeth. "Wondering out by yourself, being reckless... aren't you worried a big, bad wolf might come and get you?"  
Stiles frowned. Big bad wolf? Was this guy just saying that because there's a wolf in the fairy tale, or is he referring to himself, in front of Stiles? If so, then he must know that Stiles knew he was a werewolf. But... how?  
Just then, the guy inhaled deeply and leaned forward, taking a big whiff of Stiles' scent. When he leaned back, Stiles saw that his eyes were ruby red again. The guy growled, and Stiles could feel the vibration coming from the man's chest. "I can smell it on you. The stink. The stench of some other alpha..." the guy trailed off, leaning back in to sniff Stiles again. "But it's fading. At least two days old."  
Okay, Stiles was getting weirded out now. Stiles wasn't exactly sure what he wanted to achieve by coming here tonight, but it certainly wasn't this. He didn't want this creeper werewolf trying to get all up in his junk... just one creeper werewolf in particular.  
He laughed nervously and brought his hands up, trying to gently push the guy off him. "Uhm, not that I'm not completely enthralled by your Little Red Riding Hood references, but it's getting late, so I should be getting home." He tapped his left wrist where his watch should be, but wasn't because it stopped working when he held Derek up in water for hours. "So... yeah. Nice meeting you!" He tried to slide out from between the creeper werewolf and the concrete wall, but the guy put both hands either side of him, bracketing him against the wall. He leaned in close, smirking.  
"Not so fast, Little Red... I'm not done with you." With that, the guy grabbed Stiles' wrist and pulled him roughly after him as he led them to one of the exit doors placed along the wall. Stiles yelped as he was dragged, stumbling over his own two feet as he struggled to be free. The guy pushed the door open roughly, pulling Stiles through it and out into a back alley way behind the club. The door swung shut, and Stiles heard a click as it locked automatically. His heart was thumping against his ribcage, his hands shaking. Once again, he was pushed up against a wall, with the strange werewolf pressing up against him and making escaping impossible.  
"What do you say we have a little fun?" the guy asked rhetorically, smirking. He leaned in and nosed along Stiles' jaw line, then bit down roughly. Stiles yelped and struggled, trying to shove against the guys chest, but to no avail. "Get off of me!" He screamed, his voice a panicked screech. "Get off!" He kicked at the man's shins, pounded his fists on his defined chest, but the man just laughed.  
"You can't run, Red. If you do... I'll just chase you and drag you right back."  
Stiles sobbed in fear and desperation as the man slid his hands down the front of his torso, then yelped as the hands went to his hips and squeezed harshly before he was suddenly spun around and pushed roughly against the wall, his cheek scraping along the brick. The man growled and ran his hands down Stiles' back, and Stiles could feel claws dragging along his skin, having slashed through his shirt. He whimpered as the claws ran along his skin, not breaking flesh, but the warning was there. He felt tears run down his cheeks, his cheek stinging faintly as the salt mixed in with the scraped flesh.  
"Maybe I'll make you apart of my Pack... make you my lap dog," the man sneered, letting his claws dig into Stiles' skin. Stiles gasped in pain, clenching his eyes shut tight.  
"F-Fuck you," he whispered shakily. The man laughed.  
"As you wish... Pup." Stiles cried out in fear as his jeans were made quick work of being undone, then pulled down his legs along with his boxers. "I'm going to enjoy this," the man said as he pressed up against Stiles' back. Stiles felt the man's cock being pressed against his hole, and screeched, closing his eyes. The man laughed and started pushing in.  
Just then, a loud, animalistic growl tore through the air, and Stiles' eyes shot open in panic. The man froze behind him.  
The growl sounded again, and Stiles glanced down the alley way where it was coming from, but it was pitch black. He squinted his eyes, and then gasped as he saw two glowing red orbs shining in the dark. The man behind him growled, a menacing, terrifying sound, and backed away from Stiles. The man crouched slightly and snapped his teeth as he shifted, his claws extending from his fingertips and eyes glowing red, fangs elongating and dripping with saliva as he growled again. The red orbs in the dark grew closer, and Stiles gasped when a huge, terrifying wolf came out of the dark into the glow of the bulb of the single street lamp hovering above the alley wall. Stiles pressed against the brick wall and looked at the wolf in fear, even though there was a voice in the back of his mind telling him not to be afraid. That it was here to help.  
The werewolf snapped his teeth at the hulking black wolf again, crouching down even lower and getting ready to pounce. Stiles slid along the wall, trying to get more distance between him and the fight that was about to break out. As his bare skin scraped along the brick, he was reminded that his jeans and boxers were pulled down around his ankles, and hurried to pull them up. As he was frantically doing the buckle on his jeans, the man lunged at the wolf. Stiles gasped as the man and wolf clashed, then started fighting ferociously. The man swung his arm down and clawed at the wolf's muzzle, the wolf whimpering then growling as he advanced toward his prey, exposing his fangs. The man seemed to falter for a moment, then snapped back into action, but he was a second too late. The wolf had already charged and jumped on him, holding him down and snapping his jaws ferociously in the man's face. The man tried to swipe at the wolf again, and the wolf lunged down and bit into the man's throat, and Stiles had to look away as the wolf swung it's head side to side, ripping the man's throat out. He thought he was going to be sick. Faintly, he was aware of the sound of teeth rippling into flesh, and he clamped his hands over his ears. He curled in a ball, pulling his legs up and pressing his forehead to his knees. He couldn't hear the gruesome sound of human flesh being torn apart, only the sound of his frantic breathing and the blood rushing in his ears. He didn't know how long he stayed that way, only dimly aware of his breathing getting faster and faster, heart beating erratically. The last thing he remembered was falling back onto the cement and seeing the huge black wolf hovering above him, ears pressed down to its head as it whined in distress.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally over! After two years of trying to keep this story alive, it's finally over... I hope you loyal followers enjoy!

He could hear voices... feel someone touching his arm. His eyes were closed, but he could see the brightness even behind his eyelids. He frowned and shook his head slightly, trying to sit up but someone put a hand on his chest, stopping him.  
"Stiles?" a voice said. It sounded like Scott's boss.   
"Stiles, can you hear me? It's Dr. Deaton," the voice said again, confirming Stiles' suspicions. "Can you open your eyes?"  
Stiles slowly blinked his eyes open, then had to fight the urge to shut them again when he was blinded by a sudden shock of brightness. He looked over to Deaten and frowned. "Where am I?" he asked, even though he was pretty sure he knew.   
"You're in my exam room," Deaton said, once again confirming Stiles' suspicions. "You've been out cold for a while, I'd say about three hours," he continued in that calm but infuriating voice that all doctors had.   
"But why?" Stiles asked, trying to sit up again. An arm shot out and stopped him and he gasped, looking over at Derek, who was completely wolfed out, his lack of eyebrows not making his glare any less frightening. "Stay down," Derek growled through his fangs, applying a small amount of pressure on Stiles' chest so he would lay down on the metal table. Stiles lay back down hesitantly, all while staring at Derek with wide, confused eyes and a gaping mouth. "It was you," he whispered as memories flooded his head. The asshole werewolf, being dragged out to an alley and almost being raped... the huge black wolf that had saved him. Derek had saved him.   
"I...I didn't know you could shift like that," he said in awe, staring up at Derek.   
"Neither did Derek," Deaton supplied helpfully, making Stiles jump. "Certain levels of anger or another strong emotion can trigger the full shift into a wolf. Derek, having never accomplished the shift before, is now temporarily stuck in his beta form," he explained, gesturing to the wolfed out Derek, who was still glaring down at Stiles.  
"But... but being angry just makes you turn into-- into that," Stiles stuttered, flapping his hands at Derek. "You can't just say he got a bit pissed off and turned into a fricken huge wolf, just like that."   
Deaton shook his head patiently. "You are underestimating the level of such emotion that Derek must have been feeling when the shift occurred. I myself don't know what happened, Derek is in no such state to elaborate, but I can assure you that it was bad enough to trigger a full wolf transformation." Deaton looked him over suspiciously, knowing that he had been part of what had upset Derek. Stiles looked away, biting his lip. "Why was I out?" he asked to break the tense silence. Deaton nodded his head, expecting the question.   
"You had a panic attack. But instead of the usual anxiety attack, with the inability to breathe and blind panic, you seemingly skipped that part, and just slipped into unconsciousness. That sometimes happens when you become a bit quite too panicked. Your body physically cannot handle that level of anxiety, and shuts down."  
Stiles nodded vacantly, and winced as his head pounded at the back. Derek growled and moved closer, and Stiles hadn't even noticed he was trying to sit up again. Derek quickly pushed him down. Stiles huffed and hopped off the table at Deaton's side, and had to steady himself on the metal table. "Be careful, Stiles. You hit your head when you passed out." Stiles rubbed at the tender skin on his head. Derek growled and jumped over the table to stand next to Stiles, grabbing his wrists and holding them tightly. "What--" Stiles was cut off as Derek scooped him up in his arms and deposited him on the metal table. "Stay," he growled, his eyes flashing crimson red. Stiles gaped at him. Derek moved back and crossed his arms, his glare unwavering. Deaton moved closer and placed a hand on his thigh. "I can give you a pain killer--" he was cut off as Derek pushed him aside, growling viciously as Deaton fell to the floor. Stiles frowned and watched as the black, raised veins on Derek's arm appeared and felt it as his pain was leeched away. Derek didn't stop there though. "Derek," Stiles said, "You can stop now." He gently pushed Derek's hand off his thigh and yelped as Derek growled at him, grabbing Stiles' hand and squeezing tight. Stiles winced at the strong grasp, practically hearing the bones in his hands grinding together.  
"He's not in his right mind," Deaton said, appearing next to Stiles. Stiles looked at him. "Being stuck in his beta form, all his actions are that of his wolf. His wolf is telling him what to do and how to act. Derek is merely a spectator at the back of his own mind, trapped inside."   
"When's he gonna he able to transition back into his human form?" he asked, concerned and a little intimidated at the seemingly feral animal that had a death grip on his hand. "Maybe in a few hours, at the least. Don't worry, it's not permanent, I've seen it happen to quite a few alphas," Deaton said patiently.   
"Can I go home?" Stiles asked, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. Deaton nodded his head and stepped away from the table. "Certainly. I wouldn't recommend driving though, you might have a slight concussion from your head wound."   
"My jeep is probably still at the club," he sighed, then blushed at Deaton's look of surprise. "Just... went out with a few friends," he said, laughing awkwardly. Deaton nodded his head and chose not to comment. "Well, I have to close up soon anyway, so why don't I give you a lift home?" he asked, shrugging off his lab coat. Stiles was about to respond when Derek thrust an arm over him, leaning over the table and baring his teeth at Deaton. Deaton merely nodded his head again, stepping back. "Maybe another time, then. Looks like you've already got a ride." He left the room and switched the light off, gathering up a few of his belongings. Stiles glanced at Derek and sat up hesitantly, and when Derek didn't move he swung his legs over the table and hopped down. He tensed, expecting to be growled at or reprimanded, but heaved a sigh of relief when nothing happened. He made to go leave the room when a hand caught his arm and spun him around, and before he even knew what was happening he was being swept up in a bridal carry in Derek's arms. He squawked as Derek ran from the room and out of the clinic altogether. He tried protesting, and even slapped lightly at Derek's shoulder but all that got him was a growl. He sighed, resigned, and let Derek carry him home, being jostled by the rough movements. They passed quite a few cars on their way to Stiles' house, and some of the passengers leaned out of their windows and called out to them sarcastically. A few times, Stiles was sure Derek was going to turn around and chase after them, but was surprised each time when he didn't. When they made it to Stiles' house, Derek stopped at the front door and stared at it until Stiles managed to fish around in his back jeans pocket for his house keys and awkwardly unlock the door. Derek didn't waste any time getting Stiles upstairs, only pausing for a second to kick the front door shut. They made it to Stiles' room where Derek placed him-- very carefully and gentle-- onto his bed and then the hulking werewolf retreated to the corner of the room and slid down to the floor, his red eyes watching Stiles through the darkness. Stiles was slightly unnerved, but he sat up and kicked his shoes off and wiggled out of his pants, leaving his t-shirt and briefs on. He got under the bed covers and squirmed around until he was comfortable. His mind was working a mile a minute, and it made falling asleep difficult. He pounded his pillow with his fists until it was plumped up enough, and sighed heavily as he shut his eyes tight and attempted to clear his head of all thoughts. He frowned, and if he listened hard enough, he could hear the slight intake and exhale of Derek's breathing across the room. He concentrated on that sound only, and not even five minutes later, he was in a deep sleep, his mind finally shut down for the night.

***

Derek watched over him the entire night, and all through the early hours of the morning. He didn't get a second of shut eye. It was around three am when he could feel his body begin to calm and relax, and a few moments later, the hair on his face receded, his fangs drew up into his gums and his claws retracted into his fingertips. He flexed his fingers as he moved into a slightly more comfortable position. He didn't like losing control like that, even though his wolf hadn't acted out too badly. It made him feel vulnerable-- weak.  
He sat in the corner of Stiles' bedroom and watched over the boy for hours, long after the Sheriff had left for work. There was a moment where he had to quickly jump from the open window and hang there while the Sheriff had entered the room to check on his son. He heaved himself up and crawled gracefully back through the window when the Sheriff had left, but instead of reclaiming his spot in the corner of the room, he crept over to Stiles and sat down on the corner of his bed, watching over him from his new vantage point. It was at least another hour before Stiles began to stir, and another fifteen minutes before he fully pulled himself from his deep slumber. He wasn't surprised to see Derek, just calmly noted the return to his human side. "Morning," he mumbled sleepily, stretching out his limbs. Derek nodded his head slightly.   
"That was pretty awesome, what you did last-"   
"Listen Stiles," Derek said, interrupting the boy mid-sentence. "We have to talk about this."  
Stiles frowned. "Talk about what, exactly?"  
Derek made a funny hand movement, trying to gesture between the two of them. "This. Us."  
Stiles sniffed. "I was under the impression that there was no longer an 'us'. You made that pretty clear."  
Derek frowned, turning to glare accusingly at Stiles. "You're the one who broke up with me."  
Stiles was momentarily stunned into silence. "Broke up-- so we were in a relationship then?"   
Derek raised an eyebrow. "Yes," he said, like it was obvious. "We were. Until you broke up with me."  
Stiles made a funny squeaking noise and sat up. "I-- we weren't in a relationship!"   
Derek frowned, his eyes betraying how hurt he was. Stiles quickly scrambled to elaborate.   
"That's not what I mean! It's just... I didn't know-- I wouldn't have stopped things between me and you if I..." he trailed off, looking at Derek desperately. "You know?"  
Derek gave him a funny look. "If you didn't think we were in a relationship, then what?"  
Stiles flapped his hands around, trying to find the right words. "I just thought we were involved, you know? Like... on a friends with benefits scale."  
"You thought this was about sex?" Derek asked, to clarify.   
Stiles nodded his head frantically.   
"Stiles, we've only ever exchanged hand jobs and blow jobs and... other stuff," he said slowly. "If this was just about sex, then why the hell haven't we even had proper sex?"  
"I don't know! I'm sorry," Stiles said quietly, biting his lower lip. "Does this mean you want a relationship with me? A proper one?"  
Derek was silent for a second. "Does this mean you don't?"  
"No, I do," Stiles said, sounding slightly uncertain. "We just have to... work on things."  
"Work on things?" Derek repeated. Stiles nodded. "Like what?"  
"Well, like on our communication. And boundaries?" he said, sounding unsure. Derek raised an eyebrow, quizzical.   
"Like, your... possessive antiques. And obsessive, and scary, and slightly sadistic characteristics, and the weird showering thing, and the whole 'let's act like a dog and piss on people' thing, and the--"  
"Okay, Stiles, I get it!" Derek exclaimed.  
Stiles waited patiently with a small smile on his face. Derek looked like he was struggling with words.  
"We'll... We'll be a normal couple," Derek said after a few silent moments. "Is that what you wanna hear?"   
Stiles nodded, now beaming.   
"But I do get possessive sometimes," Derek said helplessly. Stiles nodded again.  
"And I'm very protective," he said, sounding unsure. Stiles kept nodding.  
"And I like you smelling like me," he added, glancing up at Stiles with hesitant eyes. Stiles nodded with a smile.   
"And I can't promise I won't yell at people when they touch you!" he almost yelled, frustrated at Stiles' nonchalant responses. Stiles just kept nodding his head and leaned closer. "I can't promise that either, pup," he said, smirking, and then leaned in for a kiss to seal the deal.

**Author's Note:**

> Always appreciate comments and constructive criticism. Don't be mean, though... I'm fragile. Like a China doll.


End file.
